#they see him running and elise is just disappointed that he's gone back on all his character progression and hazel's just: ?

[warrenwaskilledbyadeer]

The knowledge that other people make aus like Milo Murphy characters as Wizard of Oz has me so relieved but so anxious

Relieved because I'm not an insane weirdo who has to hide it anymore

But anxious because now I kinda feel like I wanna talk about it??

I have a few for Amnesia that I really really like actually and I almost told a friend about one of them today but I chickened out skdjsksk

I'm shaking now gahhhh

(I apologize to my few followers who see these posts btw, I just use tumblr as a venting place because it's very easy for them to be lost in the void forever but also I got to get a little ranting/venting out of my system)

[leafs-lover]

Because Two People Got Drunk: 40

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I don’t even know how this became 12k words. Anyways I hope to have 41 out in the next week, but be prepared. It’s dirty ;)

Chapter 40

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, smut (oral male receiving) thigh riding

Word Count: 12,000

“Hey babe" you hear a raspy voice mumble.

“Hey" you smile closing the fridge door and are met with him leaning against the counter, arms crossed across his chest, fitted suit clinging to his frame. You bounce on your feet, Elise pressed against your chest squirming slightly having just ate.

“How was your nap?” you ask.

“Alright didn’t get much of one, mostly laid there.”

You pull a mug down and reach over to the fresh pot of coffee, pouring one for him.

“Thanks. Where are the boys?” he asks graciously taking the cup from you.

“Outside with your parents by the pool.” With the summer approaching and Fred’s parents down Oliver was very eager to get in the pool. Since opening it the only time you have been able to pull Oliver from the water was for Fred’s hockey, him being more fish than human most days.

“Daddy" you hear Oliver squeal followed by stampeding footprints.

“Hiya” he bends down to pick him up for a hug.

“I like your suit" Oliver says playing with his tie, pulling it out from behind the jacket.

“Thanks bud”

“Grandpa says he is going to take me to the game.”

While Ernst and Charlotte have alternated taking him to the games, tonight is the game. Tonight is game six of the Stanley Cup Finals. If they beat the Canucks tonight they win the cup, if they lose they play game seven in Vancouver in three days.

Charlotte stayed home a couple times with Elise so you could go to some games, but you have missed most of them caring for your newborn daughter. But it hasn’t been that bad, either you have had one of them home to help you with the three young ones. On a few occasions the two of them have gone taking all the boys leaving you with just Elise.

“Yeah daddy looks handsome” Charlotte says walking in. She sets Lucas on his feet, who wobbles for a few seconds on his uneasy legs before dropping to his bum and crawling over.

“Thanks ma" he chuckles bending down in his suit to be closer to Lucas’s level while setting Oliver on his feet. Next Ernst walks in, Noah clutching his fingers as he takes a few uneasy steps.

While neither boy on is walking on their own you are hopeful it will be soon. The idea of the two of them tripping over everything and getting hurt doesn’t excite you; but you hope Charlotte and Ernst get to witness it before heading back to Denmark after the playoffs.

“Woah” Fred calls reaching out to pick up Lucas as Noah guides Ernst towards him. He grabs him pulling him into his other hip earning a slight chuckle from the toddler, just before he stands up Oliver jumps on his back wrapping his hands around his neck.

“Oof" he laughs. “What were we thinking with a fourth?” he turns to face you. “Didn’t have enough hands when there was three babies.”

“You weren’t thinking” Ernst says with a smirk while Charlotte shoots him a glare. Ignoring his father’s comment he walks towards the couch, leaning forward to not drop Oliver. Once standing over it he leans backwards.

Oliver begins to laugh and squeal as his grip loosens before finally letting go and falling onto the couch. Fred gives both of the twins a kiss on their foreheads and sets them on the floor. The two of them make their way over to their toys and Oliver jumps back into Fred’s arms.

“Good luck daddy”

“Oh thanks buddy" he kisses his forehead. “I’ll see you at the game tonight.”

“Mhm" he nods with a big smile.

Next he heads over to his parents both of them wishing him luck before making his way to you.

“Good luck babe, you’re gonna do amazing" his lips press against yours. You run your fingers through his rough beard, it having grown substantially during the playoff run.

“Thanks" he reaches to put a hand on your waist, careful not to pull you in too tight with Elise between you and his lips press briefly against yours.

Pulling away he reaches to grab Elise and you coil away slightly. “Baby you look really nice in that suit, and your daughter has a tendency to puke after eating.”

“Its fine" he laughs grabbing her from you. Her legs stretch out with a slight cry. Once pressed against his chest his familiar scent calms her down and she begins suckling her mouth. He bounces slightly and presses her head against her chest. “She isn’t gonna puke on me" he runs a hand over her back as a small yawn falls from her lips.

“Oh you tired pretty girl" his lips press against her forehead. “Almost your nap time eh” he bounces her a few more times. At that moment you hear her little cough and Fred immediately stops moving her and looks down.

You smirk knowing you were right and Fred pulls her away and you see the vomit staining his white dress shirt and his navy blue suit.

“Don’t say it" he smiles.

“No idea what you’re talking about” you tease following him upstairs.

Once upstairs you take Elise to change her into a clean onesie while Fred switches his suit. Once changed you bring her back into your bedroom setting her in the bassinet, as she isn’t quite six weeks she still sleeps in the room with you both, likely will for a little while longer.

Fred walks out of the closet with his burgundy dress pants on. A crisp new white shirt is tucked tightly into his pants. So tight it hugs the curves of his muscles and you can see his abs through the stomach. He has the matching vest and jacket in his hand tossing them on the bed as he grips the black silk tie.

You take it from him running the smooth fabric through your fingers a few times before wrapping it around his neck. You slowly tie it, not breaking eye contact as you tighten it around his neck and fix his collar.

You rise to your tippy toes gently pressing your mouth against his pulse point, earning a breathy “thanks baby.”

You smirk in response his cologne flooding you as he leans around you to grip his vest and jacket.

“Very handsome Mr. Andersen” you adjust the tie as he fixes the cuffs of his sleeve.

“Fuck you’re something" he groans.

Ignoring his comment you reach around his neck, running your hands through his hair and pulling his lips down to yours.

“You’re gonna be amazing tonight.”

“I can’t convince you to come eh” he presses his lips against yours again; you can taste the minty mouthwash as his tongue spreads your lips and slides in.

Because of how young Elise is she hasn’t been to a game yet and you don’t think she should be at the game tonight. You considered getting Christie for the night but Elise hasn’t had a night without family and you just aren’t ready to do that yet.

Charlotte spent the last two days trying to convince you to go; and you really have gone back and forth. It’s not an easy decision choosing between being a supportive fiancé or your mom duties. Fred has talked with you about it briefly, but he can tell how hard it is for you. Not wanting to make your decision harder he didn’t press the issue.

When you finally decided you would stay home with Elise Charlotte immediately said she would stay with her, that you should be at the game. But you couldn’t do that to her. His parents would wake up early to drive him to practice, and gave up everything for their kids. Now Fred has the chance to win the biggest prize in hockey, something he never would have accomplished without them so you want them there.

“She is so little” you pull away eyeing to your sleeping daughter.

“She’ll love it” his mouth finds a spot under your ear gently nipping the skin. “She’ll be fine up in the family suite, all she is going to do anyways is sleep. She can do that in the suite.”

His hands trail down your body landing on your waist holding you close to his chest as your arms wrap around his neck. “Need my good luck charms there” he gently nuzzles his head into your collarbone “all of them.” His long beard itches against your skin as he nuzzles in deeper “my girls are a part of my good luck charm.”

“You’ve won games without us there” your hips roll forward groaning as he peppers you with soft kisses, your loose t-shirt easily falling off your shoulder to allow him more space.

“But it’s so much better when you’re there cheering me on” his hands slide around to the small of your back as he places soft kisses to your jaw. “No matter what happens I want you there, need you there.”

“I know babe” you whisper softly feeling tears prick your eyes. This is an impossible situation, you want to be there for Fred but Elise is still so young. You sniffle lightly against his chest and he pulls away sighing when he sees your face. His large hands easily cup your face and his thumb wipes away the few tears that have fallen.

“I’m sorry” you whisper rubbing your face against his hand as your eyes gently close.

“Hey no don’t cry” he presses his lips to your forehead. “I’m sorry babe.”

“I feel like I’m disappointing you” you say softly.

“Never” he holds you tight against him as a few slow tears roll down your cheeks. “You’re an amazing mom; I know it’s not easy. Maybe the birth of our next unplanned child will work better with my hockey schedule” he tilts your head to look into your eyes.

You chuckle slightly “no more unplanned babies” you say rolling your eyes blinking back some tears.

“What about planned babies” he smirks.

“Stop” you laugh through blurred lenses.

“There it is” he smirks seeing you smile. He brings his lips to yours briefly “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Your hands slide into his hair while his hands trail down your body. His tongue slips in your mouth and his hands grip your hips as the kiss changes from soft to hungry.

“You’ll be late babe" you mumble against his lips.

“I don’t care” he groans pulling you closer to him. He gives your ass a gentle squeeze and pulling you firmly against him. He presses his lips back to yours, his overgrown mustache slides into your mouth along with his tongue causing you to pull back.

“I can’t wait until this is gone” you laugh raking your nails through his beard. Through the years you have witnessed his playoff facial hair grow in, but they have never made it the finals before, so he hasn’t gone this long with trimming it. In the beginning he would shave away the few hairs that are high on his cheeks, to help keep the shape while the hair grew out. But part way through the second round he stopped and now his beard begins much higher on his cheeks than ever before.

“I was thinking of keeping it for the wedding” he presses his lips back on yours.

“No” you laugh pushing him off you shaking your head. “This” your index finger points to his facial hair “is not welcome at our wedding. Now get going.”

“See you when I get home” he smirks with one final soft kiss before walking out of the room.

**

“Mommy. Why are you wearing your jacket?” Oliver asks when you walk into the living room a little while later. You have on jeans with a while t-shirt under a black, white and yellow leather jacket with Andersen engraved in cursive font on the back. It’s a custom jacket that every WAG had made for the playoff run. The few games you have gone to you’ve either worn this or your jersey; but it largely has been unworn.

“It’s such an Important night for daddy I thought he’d want all of us there” you say as Charlotte smiles seeing you.

She walks over and wraps her arms around your neck “I’m glad you came to your senses dear, he will want you there no matter what.” Her lips gently press into your cheek and she pulls away “I love you Char" you wipe a tear from your eye.

“Is Elise coming too" Oliver asks as Charlotte smiles her response to your words.

“Yes" you walk into the pantry and pull out a bag you have hidden away that contains a small pink jersey you had custom made to fit her, complete with Fred’s number and daddy embroidered on the back. While you never intended for her to wear this to a game, you were planning on sending him a picture or video with her in it. “I got her this to wear, what do you think Ollie?”

He nods in agreement “mhm daddy will be so happy to see her.”

You find Elise in her swing, pulling the small jersey over her head. She stirs slightly in her sleep and Charlotte hands you a pair of noise cancelling headphones with a grin, she knew all along you would come.

The seven of you climb in the car, Fred having recently traded in the SUV for the seven seat Mercedes. While your old one fit the five of you, it didn’t have a sixth seat. This one can fit 7, so there is more space available for all of you since he refuses to have anything that resembles a minivan.

You all are heading down early. There are festivities in and out of the arena, but you know Oliver won’t be interested in them, too anxious for the game. And the other kids are too young to participate. But they do have a dinner in the family suite, and everyone will be excited to meet the newest addition to the Penguins family.

Once at the suite Elise is immediately pulled from her carrier and whisked off, being shuffled around by the other WAGS. With Ollie you used to try to object, but now you’ve just grown accustom to the babies being gone as soon as you walk in.

“I can’t believe you came" Kathy wraps her arms around you. “You were adamant in not coming a couple hours ago.”

“Please I couldn’t miss this" you pull back “or you. What are you now, 5 months?”

“Four and a half” her hand runs over her stomach.

“That’s so exciting, I’m so happy for you" your arms wrap back around you.

“Mhm" she hums her head turning to follow some food being brought in. You chuckle slightly and walk over with her; she’s practically drooling looking at the options.

“Hey Ollie" you call out having no idea where your son is in the room.

“Yeah mommy" he runs up beside you as you make him a small plate.

“Take your jersey off so you can eat” otherwise you know he would spill some ketchup down himself.

“I think she’s hungry" someone says handing Elise back to you just as you sat down.

“Do you need help?” Kathy asks watching as you adjust Elise under a blanket.

“Why? You want to feed me Kath?” you joke adjusting twirling spaghetti on a fork and bringing it to your lips.

“Well I mean if that’s what you need" she laughs “guess I should get used to feeding someone else.”

“You have time for that" you laugh. “But you do learn how to multitask very early on. I mastered the art of eating while I feed my baby pretty early with Oliver. Otherwise I would have starved.”

Fixing your clothes you pull Elise out and drape the blanket over your shoulder, not wanting to have to wear baby vomit for the rest of the night as you burp her before she dozes off again.

“Mommy! The skate is going to start" you hear Oliver notify you. Looking around you see some of the group has filtered out while they make their way down to the glass. Elise is asleep in your arms, pacifier in her mouth; grabbing his hand you make your way down.

Charlotte and Ernst both have one of the twins, and you would think having a sleeping new born and the oldest (who should be the best behaved) would be easier. But Oliver is trying to run down the hall, if he was much stronger he would be dragging you. Once at the glass you check that the headphones haven’t shifted from her or the twins and when you glance up some of the boys have stepped on the ice.

Fred steps on the ice and heads to the net, as he lifts his helmet he finds the group in the corner. Leaving his helmet on the net he skates over, you see the moment he notices you are there because his entire face lights up with the biggest smile. You carefully pull Oliver into your other arm so he can be closer to Fred.

He taps on the glass by the twins, their eyes lighting up and small laughs coming from them, Lucas clapping his hands as they see Fred in front of them. They have no idea what is happening but they always have the same reaction when they see Fred in his goalie equipment on the other side of the glass.

His large smile has yet to fade as he leans over to Oliver waving at him. Oliver holds a fist up and the two of them fist-bump through the glass; their pre-game ritual.

Next he shifts to you shaking his head still in somewhat disbelief. You see his lips moving; while you can’t talk hear through the glass you can tell what he is saying.

I can’t believe you’re here. I love you so much.

You mouth an “I love you” to him and adjust Elise so he can see the writing on the back of her Jersey. A large smile crosses his face as he waves goodbye and skates off, the seven of you returning to the lounge.

You do have actual seats, really good seats actually. But it’s easier with Elise and the twins to be up in the suite. It has space for the stroller, so whenever one of them falls asleep you can set them down in there. It will also be much quieter for everyone, and some comfort and privacy.

You offered to watch Elise and the twins upstairs so the others could watch from the actual seats, Charlotte said no. Wanting to help you so you aren’t left alone with three kids even though you have much experience with that already.

And Ollie said he wanted to stay with you, resulting in all of you upstairs along with a few others including Kathy.

The Canucks come out strong, as expected. Tonight is a must win if they want a shot at the Stanley cup. They easily dominate the first period, shots 10-3; though none have made it past Fred. Oliver is over the moon watching Fred in night. He commentates some of the plays to you and Kathy, yelling whenever Fred has a save.

“You ready for that" you laugh eyeing towards him as he jumps out of his seat for the first save of the second period.

“Honestly I don’t know how much time Sid has left to play” she sighs. “Peanut might not get to see him play, and if they do they surely won’t remember.”

You smile not wanting to push the topic further. As Sid has gotten older the question of his time in the league always comes up. Any time he gets injured or if he blows a play; it’s constantly coming up. Everyone knows this might be his last season, adding an extra layer into the team’s performance.

Part way through the second period a Penguins defenseman pinches to try and keep the puck in the Canuck zone. Brock Boeser beats him to the puck, banking it off the boards before starting off down the ice. The other defenseman takes off along with Pettersson creating a 2 on 1.

The defenseman a few strides back slides to attempt to block the pass, but Boeser manages to pass it a few feet from the net. Landing right on Elias’s stick. Fred having committed to stopping Brock on the right side tries to slide across but not in time. Pettersson tips it over hid pad and in; giving them the lead.

It was a beautiful goal, one that Fred had no chance on. He had to assume Brock would shoot and protect that half of the neck. But regardless of the circumstance it gives them a lead, and a fire they desperately need.

Five minutes later, while on the power play a second one goes past Fred. An absolute rocket from the blue line, and he was screened by 2 Canucks and one of his own men. Another goal he had no chance on, but still frustrating for him nonetheless.

Silence falls over the building.

This is the moment you wish were in your seats. To be closer to Fred. When he would take his helmet off for a drink maybe he could find you in the stands. See you smiling back at him, or maybe he would just feel you there close to him.

Going into the third the Penguins need momentum, and they have it. Keeping the puck in the Canucks end for the majority of the first 10 minutes. Vancouver manages 1 shot and Pittsburgh 7. It’s the change of pace they needed. The momentum brings the fans back into but they are unable to execute on it.

You can almost hear a pin drop as the clock winds down, less than 5 remaining. That’s when Sid is fed the puck behind the defense and takes off on a breakaway.

He dekes left and back right drawing the goalie over. He fakes a shot and the goalie goes down only to flip it up off the crossbar and down. It lands on the goalies back bouncing off him and into the net.

The entire building erupts; yellow towels are being spun around the entire stadium.

This is what they needed. The fans back in it and a change in momentum leads to another quick goal and three minutes left in the game.

The next three minutes feel like 3 hours to you. You are on the edge of your seat, along with every other person in the building. Neither team scores and the game is off to overtime.

While the twins fell asleep, Oliver hasn’t. You hope he does soon, because at some point regardless of the outcome you and the kids will have to leave given the time, and you don’t want to have to deal with a meltdown when that comes during overtime.

One thing you know about overtime is anything can happen. One bad bounce, it can go off your own players skate, one miscue and everything is over.

There are no comebacks in overtime.

The Canucks chip the puck down to Pittsburgh end and everyone starts a change. Fred skates out to stop the puck for his defensemen only there isn’t one. Looking up ice he sees the rookie and sends the puck down. Skating in he takes the shot only to have it be saved, but the rebound is quickly lifted over the goalie and in the net.

Shock washes over you, as you sit in your seat. You don’t hear the horn or the entire stadium erupt, you don’t see the confetti fall from the ceiling. It’s not until Oliver jumps in your arms, pulling the air out of your chest that you realize it actually happened. You didn’t dream it.

Fred won the Stanley Cup.

“Daddy did it" he squeals as your arms tighten around him.

“He sure did" you feel tears prick your eyes.

Tears, hugs and laughter fill the press box, champagne being passed to those who can drink. Through your excitement and commotion you missed the handshakes, Vancouver having left the ice. You watch as the Cup is brought out and handed to Sidney for the fourth time.

It is handed around to the rookie next, the game winning goal scorer. Likely the next face of the organization when Sidney leaves.

And he, well he hands it to the man that fed him the puck. Fred.

You watch as he hoists the cup above his head. Charlotte and Ernst both have tears in their eyes, while Oliver’s face is lit up brighter than on Christmas morning. You feel a couple warm tears fall down your cheek when you hear Kathy in your ear “Let’s go.”

Scanning the room you realize everyone has filtered out, making the trek down to the ice. Once the cup has been passed around and the team photo complete the doors are opened and families begin to flood the ice.

“Daddy you won!” Oliver cheers when he picks him up, squeezing g him into his chest.

“I sure did" he chuckles giving his dad a hug.

“I’m so proud of you Frederik" Charlotte says pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks ma" he smiles setting Oliver down beside her.

He takes a few steps and your arms open, immediately you wrap your arms around his neck blocking the florescent lights from your eyes. His hair is soaked with sweat and covered with a “Stanley Cup champion" hat. His equipment makes him bigger than ever and his jersey smells of something you can’t even imagine.

But you don’t care.

Your fingers hold the back of his head and pull him down to you. He reaches around hands landing on the small of your back as your mouths collide.

It doesn’t start slow, he dives right in. You can taste the sweat on his lips, the Gatorade on his tongue. Tongue slipping inside and you moan into his mouth before he pulls away briefly to capture his breath.

“Don’t make baby number five tonight" you hear someone mumble but press back in, smirking through the kiss.

“Congratulations baby" you pull away for a second only to kiss him again. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I wouldn’t be here without you" he smiles kissing you again. “Or my four good luck charms.”

He pulls away and skates to the stroller. The twins having woken up with all the commotion are wide eyed taking in the sights while Elise still sleeps soundly.

Pulling the twins out he bounces them on his hips, pressing kisses into both of their short red hair. Neither has any idea what is going on but pick up on the energy and smile, Noah clapping in his hands.

“Let’s get a family picture” he smiles. Ernst grabs Elise and you Oliver. You grip on to Fred’s arm as he leads you out on the ice. It’s not that you aren’t a decent skater; it’s just different wearing shoes and holding a child.

Once out there you get situated and Fred skates away to help Charlotte. He comes back a couple minutes later with the rookie and the Stanley Cup. He sets the cup down in front and Fred gets his dad to set Elise gently in the cup, using some unused towels to cushion it for her.

“Is that necessary?” you laugh when Fred comes back beside you.

“Babe how many babies get pictures in there?” he laughs as the team photographer takes a few of just Elise. “Much better than those newborn pictures you had done a few weeks ago” he teases.

“That’s ridiculous” you say.

“I think it’s perfect” Fred says helping you get in position beside him and the cup.

“Me too daddy” Oliver claps.

“Two to one, you’re outvoted” he kisses you again before everyone gets set for the family pictures. The celebrations continue over the next little while, champagne passed around just as much as the Stanley Cup. Trying to safely maneuver on the ice becomes somewhat of a challenge, but you are happy you settled on a pair of converse instead of heels.

“We’re going to take the kids home" Charlotte wraps her arms around Fred and you next. Looking to the stroller you see all three kids are asleep and Oliver’s eyes are closed as he rests in Ernst’s arms. Some of the players have begun to filter off the ice, continuing the celebration in the locker room.

“Have fun tonight momma" Charlotte winks as Fred helps them off the ice.

Almost instantly Fred’s arms wrap around you, pulling you in tight against his chest protector. You wrap your arms around his neck, struggling to reach with the extra inches his skates give him. He picks you up and sets you on his boots bringing his hands finding the back of your thighs to hold you in place.

His lips find your neck as he peppers kisses pulling some moans from you. “Babe people can see" you say. While many fans have left and are likely celebrating in bars or in the streets, there is still a decent amount that has remained inside.

“Let them see" he mumbles. “I’m sure they can figure out why I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Babe" you warn as he kisses you below the collar of your jacket.

“Jump up" he whispers and you wrap your arms around him tightly, your legs around his waist as he skates off the ice towards the dressing room where some of the team is waiting.

“See you in a bit” he sets you down with a kiss before heading into the dressing room.

**

“Hey babe" Fred’s hands grip your hips to hold you steady as you walk directly into his chest.

“Hey champion" you smile looking up to him. His eyes are glossed over and red from the alcohol you can smell it on him. Or do you smell it on yourself?

He grips your hips digging his hands gently into your cool and damp skin, chuckling slightly at your words. It’s only mid-June but Mario has the pool heater on for a party in the backyard. It’s warm in the water but once out the cool night air sends a slight chill through your body.

Fred lifts you in the air eliciting a slight squeal from your lips. Spinning you both 180°C he sets you back down with a kiss on the cheek. With a smirk he walks back into the bathroom shutting the door behind him.

“I’m sure you could have found your way back” he teases opening the door to see you in the bedroom waiting for him. A dark smile crosses your face and you put your hands on his chest backing him into the bathroom.

“Babe" he groans as you turn the lock on the door.

Wordlessly your mouth finds his neck, sucking lightly to taste the chlorine on his skin. Your hand begins to trail down his body running over his dripping swim trunks. The wet fabric clinging to every muscle of his lower body. Your hand presses down his hips to his thick thighs before palming over him a few times.

“(Y/N)” he warns but that only encourages you. You rub over his member and drag your teeth along his neck, Fred chuckling at your determination.

“We can’t do this here" he pushes your hips so your flatfooted pulling you from his neck.

“We fucked in Sid’s bathroom at a Halloween party" you move to his chest placing open mouth kisses on him gently sucking on his warm skin.

“That was my captain’s house, this is the owners” he gasps as your teeth sink into his chest. “And we were trying to make a baby then" he groans as you feel him start to harden under your hand.

“Well" you rise back to your tippy toes wrapping both arms around his neck. You press your hips forward, his hard member pressing into your stomach “my fiancé just won the Stanley Cup and I want to celebrate.” You place kisses along his neck and jaw between each word, Fred taking a sharp exhale.

“We are celebrating, hence the party.” You can hear the music and muffled laughter through the open window. You can’t make out what is happening but you can tell everyone is enjoying themselves from the loud laughter and cheers.

“I was thinking a more private celebration was in order” you lean forward your mouth centimeters from his ear “one with me on my knees.”

Danish curse words fall from his lips as you quirk an eyebrow up at him. Both your hands find the string tied around his waist and undo the knot, a wide grin on your face. While this behaviour isn’t entirely in character for you, after a few drinks you tend to get a little frisky. Something Fred has always been in favour of.

“Fuck du er utrolig (you’re unbelievable)” he mumbles as you slide fingers under the waist band of his trunks.

“You love it" you mumble kissing his chest, slowly trailing your way down his body. You leave soft kisses in your wake, ensuring not to leave a trail of marks for when you return to the party.

You push the fabric off his thighs, the wet fabric landing harshly against the floor as his hard cock slaps against his stomach. He steps out of them and you lands on your knees in the puddle of cold water that has been dripping off him onto the marble floors.

His pink tip is throbbing inches from your face as you stroke it up and down his shaft a few times. The precum glistens in the light and you press your tongue to the back of your teeth with a soft moan. You swallow your saliva flicking your eyes up to meet him. His pupils are blown as he watches you slowly stroke up and down, your other hand gently grazing over his thigh.

Your tongue darts between your parted lips, wetting them

Your mouth finds his thighs, placing soft open mouth kisses on his thighs. Your mouth moves to his hard member placing a few kisses on his shaft. You feel him twitch faintly at the contact before your mouth moves back to suck on his hips and pelvis.

“Babe" he groans after a few minutes of you toying with him “we don’t have time for this.”

While you know everyone is busy and won’t notice your absence you don’t want to keep him waiting. “You’re right. You deserve it” you wink.

Your mouth wraps around his tip, tongue licking up the precum that has oozed out. Your tongue swirls around his leaking tip a couple times before your mouth wraps around him.

“Fuck (Y/N)” Fred groans as you bob up and down on him a few times. Hollowing your mouth for him you take him deeper every time, before he hits the back of your throat.

His hands tangle in your hair pulling it from your face as the other leans against the counter. You look up at him through your lashes, watching as his eyes snap shut. One hand gently rakes up his thigh, the other reaching around to his ass.

His skin is cold and damp as you give him a soft squeeze pulling his hips closer to you and he laughs slightly. Beads of sweat collect on his forehead as you stare up through your lashes taking him further.

“Fred" you hum around him.

His eyes open and finds yours, smiling at the sight of you on your knees. You pull off him with a pop, some saliva dribbling down your chin.

“Fuck my face" you almost hear his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“You’re amazing" he brings his other hand to your chin cupping it lightly. “Absolutely amazing" he strokes over your jaw before pressing it down to open your mouth for him.

You feel his hard dick fall on your tongue as his hips rock forward slightly. Your mouth wraps around him again while he pulls back. He slowly repeats the action a few times grinning as his cock disappears into your mouth.

You’re eyes find his and he smirks before snapping his hips thrusting into your mouth. You cough choking on him and he eases up slightly. You moan slightly, your throat relaxing around him. Your hands give his ass a soft squeeze, giving him the encouragement to increase his pace yet again.

One of his large hands in your hair gripping your neck the other cupping your jaw he thrusts in and out of your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with every thrust.

Tears prick your eye as saliva dribbles down your chin. Staring at Fred through glazed lenses you see his are dark with fire, loving the sight of you on your knees. Your hand tightens its grip on his ass as his tightens in your hair digging into your scalp.

The fire between your legs is ignited, and if it wasn’t for the fact you opted to wear a one piece bathing suit you would slip some fingers down your bottoms into your folds.

Every thrust of his hips is calculated with purpose. You feel in your heat, wanting nothing more than for him to pull out and bend you over the counter. Pound in to you from behind while you grasp the porcelain for stability, but you know that won’t happen here.

Besides the fact you are at the owner’s house with his entire team, you also haven’t had your six week check-up. Some Fred is adamant you get before he does anything. Sex during the playoffs was always limited, reserved for days when a series has ended and they have a few days off before their next opponent. He never has come home after a playoff game when he has another in 2 or 3 days and had sex, but on occasion he has fingered you, especially if you find time to join him in the shower.

But this year has been nothing. He insists you wait until your appointment, and no amount of pleading has helped. If the sight of you on your knees while he fucks your mouth isn’t enough for him to slide between your dripping heat than nothing is.

You can feel him getting sloppy, as his hips stutter. Muttered Danish curse words fill the bathroom as his dick twitches. He holds your head on him, shooting warm ribbons down your throat. When he pulls out some saliva mixed with cum spills out on your chin and down to your chest, landing on the curve of your breast.

Holding a hand out he helps you to your feet before pulling his trunks back up his legs. You wipe the sides of your mouth, cleaning his cum from your face. You scan the bathroom for a cloth to wipe the smeared lipstick from your face “I can’t believe I just gave a Stanley Cup Champion a blow job.”

You hear him chuckle while he brings two fingers on your chest. He wipes the cum from your chest, cleaning your skin before bringing his fingers to your mouth. You open for him and wrap your lips around him. He groans as you swirl your tongue around his thick digits. Pulling them out he wipes them on your bathing suit “thank you" you smile.

“Mmm tak baby pige" (thank you babygirl)” he hums in your ear before sucking gently on your neck. You feel his lips curl against your skin as he places warm open mouth kisses on your exposed skin.

The cool night air blowing through the window against your damp skin and Fred’s soft touch causes goosebumps to erupt on you. You shiver and press yourself into his chest, his warm arms quickly wrapping around you.

“I love you" he whispers in your ear. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m so happy in five weeks you get to be my wife.”

Your hands reach around him running up his back, you lean your head back to glance into his eyes. “I can’t wait to be your wife.”

“We can run off to Vegas, you could be my wife in a few hours” he smiles as you shake your head remembering a night a few weeks ago.

It was about two weeks before Charlotte came to Pittsburgh and you had a particularly rough day of wedding planning. Since she was visiting a lot of the vendors on your behalf in Denmark, you wanted to have everything in order before she left. You could still talk with the planner after that, but you found it easier having Charlotte there to see things in person and give her honest opinion.

Trying to coordinate with the florist you thought everything was set up perfectly until Charlotte went to see the mock ups and they were not even close to what you thought. And then she told you that you booked the photographer for the wrong date and they weren’t actually available on your wedding day. It was disaster after disaster and you were uncomfortable from the pregnancy.

When Fred came home at 3am he tried to be soft and quiet crawling in to bed beside you. But the bed shifting and your uneasy sleep caused you to stir and wake up. You immediately broke down in his arms, the stress of everything unravelling in front of you sending you over the edge.

Fred tried to convince you to push the wedding back to the following summer, give you more time to plan. Said you could use this summer to go out and see everything and then next year you could just show up, everything already planned. He was worried about the stress you were putting on yourself to get it done, especially since you were pregnant.

But you told him you didn’t want to wait another year to get married. You said you were going to have four kids soon and just wanted it to be official. At that point you didn’t even care if you had flowers, a cake or a photographer, you just wanted to be his wife.

That was when he suggested eloping; he had an optional skate the next day and said you could run to the courthouse.

“I already see you as my wife, but we can make it official tomorrow" he whispered in your ear as his hand ran over your bump. “Tell no one or tell everyone I don’t care. Let’s get married now.”

“Mkay” you hum as he kissed your neck.

“Yeah baby you actually want to” he pulled back with a big smile.

“Well we we’re planning in being married in the summer what’s a few months” you smiled as his lips press down to yours. “We could still have a reception this summer, but might take away some stress if we go into it already married.”

Not wanting to have to rebook everything and lose the deposits (which you know he could care less about) you thought it could alleviate some pressure going into the day already married. Maybe the details wouldn’t matter as much this way.

But when you woke up the next day you had a change of heart and decided to wait until the summer as planned, but now it’s become a running joke with you two.

“I can wear my Andersen jacket" you smile as he closes the gap, his lips brushing against yours.

“You look so good with my name on your back, can’t wait until it’s your name too" he growls lowly as you feel your core ignite. You chuckle to disguise your moan as his voice vibrates off your skin. Your legs rub together slight and you push him off you slightly “we should get back” you whisper knowing every second you stay in there it will be harder for you to walk away. You turn around to face the mirror, fixing your bathing suit and hair as his hands rest against your hips.

“So that’s a no on getting married tonight?” he chuckles against your collarbone.

“Yeah" you sigh. “You can wait a few more weeks.”

“I don’t want to” he mumbles sucking hard on your neck.

“Frederik" you scold. He tilts his head to look at you in the mirror. His eyes are dark as he sucks again on your neck not breaking eye contact. Your eyes go wide, as your stern mom look comes across your face causing him to let up and chuckle.

“I’m not scared of your mom look babe" he kisses your neck again. “It actually turns me on.” He presses into you, pushing you into the counter “and you know calling me Frederik gets me hard.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you whimper slightly.

“Well I am heading back out to the party “you smirk wrangling out of his embrace. You hold a hand out for him “let’s go Mr. Andersen.”

You watch as he takes a deep breath closing his eyes for a second. He opens them shaking his head slightly before grabbing your hand and heading out together. Once in the hall you run into Sid and Kathy, actually run into them coming out of a bathroom together.

“What were you doing" you tease seeing the flushed look on her face.

“I’m gonna guess the same thing as you" she smirks.

“She’s four and a half months pregnant, can’t help it" Sid laughs walking up behind her, putting his hands on her hips as he guides her down the hall as she giggles like a teenager. While this is unusual behaviour for Sidney he is normally more reserved but you know it has to do with the hours of drinking.

“Four and a half months was a fun time" Fred mumbles in your ear.

Laughing you pull him closer so his chest is against your back as you make your way outside.

The music is just as loud as before, and the guests even more intoxicated than before you left. Fred gives your ass a light squeeze before jumping in the pool while you find some of the girls by the bar, pouring yourself a drink.

Fred shoots you a wink as you take a sip. After Sid and Kathy’s wedding you had a few glasses of wine at dinner before discovering you were pregnant. But tonight is the first night you have had a drank since Sid and Kathy’s wedding, and really the first time in over two and half years. For that reason you should take it easy, your body likely unable to handle alcohol like it used to. You’ve had three drinks since getting here plus the champagne at the arena but it doesn’t stop you from pouring a shot.

You don’t know if it’s the lingering glances over the rim of his whiskey glass, the not too subtle winks and smirks Fred sends your way or the alcohol coursing through your body. But there is heat in your cheeks and core; a dizziness in your head.

Waking up the next morning, you are in an unfamiliar bed. The pillows are softer than normal and duvet not as comfortable. You blink a few times allowing your eyes to adjust. The room is dark; except for some light filtering through the few inches the curtains are open. The room in unfamiliar but the simple décor indicates it’s a hotel.

You blink a few times adjusting to the light before continuing to look around. Your eyes land on Fred beside you lying on his stomach. He is lying topless, his red hair a mess on the pillow, his chest slowly rising and falling as he snores softly. The sheet is hung low on his hips, his broad arm wrapped under the pillow.

Pulling the duvet back you wander to the bathroom, the clock catches your eye. 11:42 illuminated in red.

“Fuck” you groan seeing yourself in the mirror. It seems like you attempted to wash your makeup off but failed and your hair is an absolute mess. You look around the room for a brush but there isn’t one but you settle on washing the remaining makeup off your face.

“Hey" Fred smiles when you walk back in, “nice hair” he laughs.

“I don’t know where a brush is" you grumble crawling back in to the bed not having a hair elastic either.

“Yeah I thought a hotel would be nice so we could sleep in, but we didn’t have a bag packed” he pulls you in against his chest. His skin is warm and you can still smell the alcohol on him.

“Yeah sleep is nice" you laugh knowing the kids would have woken you a long time ago. Even if they were kept from the room you would have heard their laughter or cries at some point.

“When did we leave the party?"

“Around 4…after your fifth shot" he places a soft kiss on your forehead.

“How do you feel?” he asks as you groan.

“Like a nap or a shower. I don’t actually know"

“Let’s shower, get it out of our systems and then maybe nap or food.”

He crawls out of bed starting the shower before returning to get you, carrying you to the bathroom. You would protest him carrying you the twenty feet but he would feed you some line about being a hockey player. But you know he just wants to take care of you, and honestly today you don’t mind it.

He sets you on the floor pulling his t-shirt off your body and you shiver in response, your nipples getting hard from the cool air. Your arms cross over your stomach hiding your stretch marks. Once his boxers are off and he turns his attention to you a scowl crosses his face as you look away.

“Baby you look beautiful" he brings his hands to your elbows but doesn’t pull them down as you look away.

“Babe look at me" he hums in your ear. You turn to face him, tears having hit your eyes. With a sigh he pulls you into his chest, a hand finding your neck tangling in your hair.

“Why are you crying?” his chin is resting on your head.

“I don’t know" you say through some light sobs. “Because I had a baby six weeks ago.”

“Sure that’s it?” his other hand runs up and down your spine. The steam from the shower begins to fill the room warming your body. Fred has spent the majority of the time with you while you’re pregnant or post-partum. Because of this he has grown accustom to you crying randomly and without cause, but he can also tell when there is a reason to your tears. And he knows you are lying about this.

“I don’t know" you mumble turning to the mirror though you can’t see anything through the fogged glass. “Sometimes I just hate how I look. Stretch marks, extra weight” being around some of the other woman who have had kids and look amazing the night before didn’t help. That’s why you opted for a one piece instead of a bikini; something you would never admit.

Fred pulls you back against his chest, stopping you from examining yourself.

“Babe I don’t see any of those things. All I see is an amazing badass woman that brought our babies into this world. I was never with you for your looks" he pulls a hand from you to tilt your head to look at him.

“Thanks” you whine as a strangled sob catches in your throat even though you know that’s not how he intended it to come across.

“That’s not what I meant” he groans. “You are absolutely breathtaking, but it’s not why I’m with you or why I love you. “I love you for your big heart and the fact that when I’m with you nothing else matters. I can be having the absolute worst day and I see your face, even if it’s just a picture on my phone, and I know everything will be okay.”

You smile lightly at that as a few tears roll slowly down your cheek. “But my favourite thing is when one of our babies smile at me. I’m not sure about Elise yet but the boys they all have your smile.”

He wipes a few tears from your eyes “I love you and the fact that you gave me four perfect babies. If you want to go to the gym and get what you want your body to look like I’ll be behind you. 100%. But you are only doing that for you, because I think you are perfect and amazing just the way you are okay?”

You know he is right, but it’s hard for you. After having Oliver it wasn’t as hard to find time to go to the gym or to take Oliver for walks and the occasional run. But with four kids you find you free time few and far between. On top of that your body changed so much after being pregnant with twins.

With all your insecurities and struggles Fred has always encouraged you, never missing an opportunity to tell you how beautiful you are. Some days you find it hard to see what he does, today being one of those days.

“Looks can fade babe, but your compassion and empathy, your beautiful smile…none of that will.”

You nod slightly and rise on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips “love you" you whisper before pressing your lips back on him. He pulls you in to him as your tongue slides into him, tasting the alcohol that remains in his mouth.

“Let’s go" he pulls away stepping into the shower where you immediately wrap your arms around his lower back tilting your head to him. He smiles at you through his golden brown eyes before closing the gap. What starts as a few soft pecks turns into your tongues lazily dancing through each other’s mouths.

“Babe" he moans pulling away to catch his breath. Water is dripping from his hair through his long beard and onto his chest, before finding the curve of his abs and falling down his thighs. It’s a sight you don’t get to see much of with four kids, but one you never tire of.

He pushes you back against the cold tile wall, his hands gently resting on your hips as his tongue slides back in your mouth. Your hands tangle in his beard, gripping it to hold him against you.

“Jeg elsker dig så meget (I love you so much)” he mumbles against your lips. A smile spreads across yours as you whisper affirmations back to him.

Your arms fully around his neck, he spins you again to be back under the stream of the water “we need to shower so we can nap" he mumbles but makes no effort to pull away from you. His hands randomly slide down to your ass to give you a soft squeeze before it trails back up your spine into your hair.

Each soft squeeze causes you to pull away with laughter, something you have grown to love about your relationship. No moment is too serious for you both. After a few more minutes you reluctantly pull away only because your skin is beginning to wrinkle from the moisture and you have yet to begin showering.

Once showered he wraps a plush towel around you, watching in the mirror as him arms rub up and down the towel to dry your body. You watch as the droplets go down his chest, over the curves of his abs and down to his member.

“You’re unbelievable” he jokes kissing your cheek pulling your gaze up to his eyes.

He is smirking at you as you swallow dryly “you know it’s been six weeks…” You turn around and lean against the counter watching as he wraps a towel low on his waist.

“Mhm you told me that” he steps closer placing a hand on either side of you pinning you “many times last night.”

You feel your core heat up as he leans in, his lips millimetres from your ear. “Did I?” you ask not remembering.

“Mhm” he kisses your collarbone drawing goosebumps to the surface of your skin. “And I told you last night” he mumbles between pressing soft kisses on your skin. “I told you I wanted to wait until after your doctor appointment.”

He continues to pepper kisses on your neck and shoulder. “I’m on birth control” you say breathlessly causing him to pull his head up and look at you with a dark grin.

“Elskede, you know I don’t care about birth control, I love seeing you pregnant.” He falls into the crook of your neck; his breath is warm but still pulls goosebumps to the surface. “I love having babies with you, and watching this belly grow. I love feeling the little kicks against your stomach and seeing you as a mom. Fuck I get hard just thinking of it" he growls.

“If you came to me in a month, a year, or even five years and said you wanted another baby I’m all in 110%.”

“Fred" you groan pushing him up by the shoulder to look at him shaking your head. “With that being said I know you don’t want any more which is why I have zero doubt you’re on birth control.”

“You were a foot away as the doctor put my IUD in" you laugh.

“Sorry for being distracted by our newborn baby girl" he smiles briefly. “I’m not saying no because of birth control, I’m saying no because I want to make sure everything is all good down there first.”

“Fine” you huff. Your six week appointment was originally scheduled for the same day as game 4 but you decided to push it until after the playoffs would be over and things would calm down. Now you are really regretting that decision to wait.

“Now let’s nap.”

“Babe" you pout as he pulls his shirt over your head.

“We’ve gone six weeks what’s a few more days?" he kisses your cheek and pulls you by the hand to the bed. You crawl in beside him, rubbing your legs together for some relief, unsure if you can wait a few more days.

“You’ll be fine" he laughs pulling you into his chest, running his hands through your hair.

“I don’t understand how a few days makes a difference” you huff staring at the ceiling. “It’s been six weeks already.”

“Yeah you said that last night too" he laughs against your temple. “You were very insistent”

“I don’t remember that” you sigh.

“Mhm, another reason I forced you to sleep" he tilts your head to look at you. “You know I’ll take care of you, just have to make sure everything is good first.”

You smile and pull him down brushing your lips against him. “I love you for taking care of me” his lips press against your once more before he adjusts beside you.

You feel his breathing steady, his chest slowing as he begins to doze off, but you aren’t as fortunate. After waiting six weeks everything Fred does has you practically dripping and that shower did not relax you. Instead it had the opposite effect.

If it wasn’t the long make out session, the naked man with water dripping down his chiseled body certainly did it.

A loud exaggerated sigh leaves your lips. “What" he murmurs eyes not opening.

“I can’t sleep, you look too good naked” you groan rolling onto your side to brush some hair from his eyes.

“So do you babe" his eyes are still closed but he is grinning at you.

“Fredddd" you whine causing his eyes to open, his brown eyes are dark and heavy with sleep.

“What can I do babe?” he asks clearing his throat, running his index finger down your spine. “Want a tea? A massage? Just go home and try to nap in our bed?”

“No" you sigh. “Tell me a story. It always works for the boys.”

“Yeah and they are babies" he laughs as you shoot him a soft smile. “I can tell you one about a train, or about a lost baby bear.”

“No, tell me about how you knew I was the one.”

“That’s the story you want?”

“Yeah" you beam resting your head on his bicep to use as a pillow.

“When did you know I was it for you" you curl into his embrace. The bright afternoon sun still filtering through the cracked curtains.

“Long before you did" he laughs wrapping his arms around you as you roll on top of him, straddling one of his thighs.

“What are you doing?” he asks as you lift the oversized shirt above your hips, pressing your bare core against his thigh. Your grab a handful of your shirt holding it a few inches above your core to keep it out of the way.

“Babe” he groans as you roll your hips feeling the wetness on his leg. You are happy you didn’t put your underwear on after your shower, otherwise you’d have to wear them home drenched.

“Not every orgasm has to involve penetration” you bring your hand to push his boxers further up his thighs giving you more space.

“I know that” he laughs finding your waist with his hands. You expect him to push you off, telling you to wait, but to your surprise he pulls you down harder against his firm muscle.

“Well I need to cum” you roll your hips again. “This is the only way for me to get what I want and for you to be okay with it.”

He shakes his head, his hands grasping your bare skin. You release your shirt and it falls onto his wrists as you rock back and forth on him. One hand lands on his lower stomach for leverage while your head falls back.

“Now I believe you were telling me a story” you smirk “about how I’m the one for you.”

He pulls his chapped lower lip through his teeth shaking his head at you before giving in. “Honestly I saw glimpses of it long before I knew” his nails dig into your skin.

“So Denmark when you were pregnant with Ollie, he kicked for the first time" you both smile remembering the day. “Everything stopped when you kissed me and I remember thinking I would do anything for you and not because you’re Ollie’s mom.”

A light sigh falls from your lips before he continues. “Honestly it confused me, I had never had any feelings like that before towards you, or any I allowed myself to admit so it really threw me off.”

“That’s why when we got back to the hotel you made love to me” you moan. “Soft and slow.”

Instead of answering Fred just ignores your comment “then I guess that first all-star break, when we went away without Oliver.”

“Fuck" you grumble under your breath slowing your hips. That and everything that transpired over the next ten months you wish you could change.

“That whole day it was the best day, actually both days were amazing. That massage I gave you by the roaring fire…”

“I had the longest shower after that night” you mumble resuming your pace. You press your hips down further, coating him in some of your wetness.

“Same” he laughs. “But the second night…the wine, music just everything was perfect. Waking up beside you after that night I just couldn’t believe I had you. Like I saw the three of us could be a being a family. I was so happy…and then you broke my heart into a million pieces the next day.”

A frown comes over you stop rocking your hips. Fred laughs lightly before continuing “then you moved out and kissed some guy in a bar back in Toronto and I remember thinking she must not be the one for me, because if you were…”

���I wouldn’t have done that” your head turns away and you try to climb off but he continues to hold you on his thick thigh.

“Babe you know this story has a happy ending” he smirks rolling your hips. He grabs one of your hands and presses your index finger into your clit with some soft circles before you take over increasing the pace. Once you take over the pace he continues with his story.

“Anyways I kept telling myself if you were the girl for me you wouldn’t have done that. Everyone told me you weren’t the girl for me; you were the girl who would help me find the girl.”

“The one you’re with before you find your wife"

“Yeah but I didn’t fully believe them. I tried to distract myself, heading to Denmark for a week, dating Danielle" you’re nose scrunches up hearing her name.

“But it was hard. Every time I saw you I got these little butterflies and I wanted to kiss you so bad. I just kept telling myself not to fall into bed with you, that if I did, I’d end up back where I was only a few months before. And I did so good for two months…

Then my birthday came, and then Ollie’s. We just kept ending up in bed together and every time I said it was the last time. Then came your birthday and Thanksgiving and I knew I was falling and I started to think that you were too. I started to see something in you that made me think maybe it was more than just hookups.

But then that day at the tree farm, that day I knew you had feelings for me” he trails off and you smile remembering that day, the butterflies you felt but were too afraid to admit. That morning when you opened the door after his road trip you realized just how much you had missed him; something you hadn’t noticed before.

Fred grins up at you and begins to move your hips, pulling you down on his thigh. His hands dig deep into your flesh leaving crescent shaped marks as you press faster and harder circles into your clit.

“We fell in the snow, I was pinning you down" he laughs bucking his hips up as you gasp from the feeling. “Nose was red from the cold and you smiled up at me well I was going to do anything to get you. Just had to get rid of your boy toy Connor” he mocks his name.

“He wasn’t my boy toy” you groan unable to laugh as you feel your orgasm building deep in your stomach. Having gone so long without one you know it will engulf you when it finally comes.

“Anyways New Year’s Eve came around and he fucked up leaving you at my door looking absolutely phenomenal.” He groans feeling your wetness on his leg as your folds flutter against his muscle. He knows your climax is near when your nails dig into his hard chest.

“And you thought damn she’d make a hot wife” you joke and he just shakes his head laughing. Your other hand slides up his chest, finding a few beads of sweat.

“Actually the next morning was when I had the moment. I woke up before you. You were sleeping on the other side of the bed, in my t-shirt, snoring lightly"

“I do not snore" you groan feeling the coil in your stomach tighten.

“Breathing deeply" he corrects. “Ollie was still asleep so I just lay there watching you sleep for a few minutes. You looked so prefect and peaceful. The sun was shining on your face and your hair was an absolute mess.

“Fred" you groan laughing as you bounce on his thigh.

“No babe, like you’re beautiful no matter what. But your hair, fuck it was a disaster” he explains with a laugh. “Between the curls and the hairspray it was everywhere. Like this morning” he smirks.

“You’re the worst" you laugh, your jaw falling open as a loud deep moan slips out.

“Well I reached over to brush some behind your ears and startled you. Your eyes fluttered open and you smiled when you saw me, then your eyes closed and you cuddled up against me. You pulled my arm over your body and fell back asleep in my arms and that was it. I just knew I had to wake up beside you every morning after that.”

He continues to move your hips flexing his thigh as your moans before louder and erratic. He knows you are getting close and holds you down onto his firm thigh while you continue to rock above him. A choked groan leaves your lips and your coil snaps your warm release spilling onto his leg.

He mutters a few curse words below you watching the white coat his chiseled thigh. He continues to do the work for you as your body tenses under your long awaited release; rocking you as complete bliss fills your body. Finally you stop moving and fall onto his chest in a state of complete euphoria; his hand rests on the small of your back.

“So you waited over five months to make a move" you tease having recaptured your breath.

“Well I had to take it slow, you spook easy. Like a deer" he laughs.

You smile wide rolling your eyes slightly but don’t bother objecting. “It’s okay you’re my Bambi, I’d do anything for you.

Later that day you were in the shower Allie called and I answered. She basically told me what I should and shouldn’t be doing. I gave her my number, and she added me to a group chat with Carlee.”

“Oh my god that must have been terrible for you" you smirk pushing onto your elbow to look at him.

“It is terrible” he corrects you pressing you back onto the mattress. “We still have it, but now it’s mostly random stuff. Sending them pictures of the kids, Carlee mostly just sends memes of goats for some reason” he laughs slightly. “But one time I was buying you a present and I had it narrowed down to two options, sent pictures to the chat and had about a million messages over the next 3 days” you laugh along with him.

“I never asked for their help again. But before we got together they helped me figure out what you meant and wanted. They made sure I didn’t do anything stupid or say something to scare you off again. When I had doubts because you were so closed off, or you would stay at your apartment alone instead of with Oliver and I they would reassure me. They would tell me things like keep doing what you’re doing or she really liked when you did blank. So without telling me how you felt or what you saying about me they helped.

I think we would have got here without them. But they helped, let me know I was on the right track.”

“I wasn’t that bad" you groan.

Fred laughs pressing his lips against yours. Your hand slides up his chest into his beard, gently running your hands through it while his tongue slides inside your mouth. You open your mouth to allow him further entrance but he pulls back slightly.

“When did you know?” he asks against your lips “that I was the one?”

“I knew that night in Toronto when I joined you on your road trip. Looking back it happened before that night, I mean you already had a key to my place. But when I called you my boyfriend at the bar…that was when it was real. I didn’t meant to call you my boyfriend, but it felt natural and right and that’s when I finally admitted it to myself.”

“Oh it took so much willpower to not tell you I loved you then" he brings a large smile to your lips. “But I knew you were already overthinking the fact you called me your boyfriend so I held back. Didn’t want to make it worse and send you running.”

“Well now you get to tell me all the time" you smile down at him.

“Mmmm and I plan on it every. Single. Day.” He presses his lips against yours in between each word, each kiss a little more firm.

“You feeling better?” he asks a few minutes later his eyes are heavy and barely open.

“Yeah” you brush your lips against his.

“All taken care of” he mumbles “satisfied?”

“Yeah babe” you smile wide though his eyes are closed and he can’t see.

“Night elskede” he mumbles through a raspy voice, barely getting the words out before he begins snoring beside you.

Next Chapter

[jaybear1701]

The call comes sooner than Pam’s expecting, though honestly she’s not even sure what she expects now that a good chunk of her life is back in shambles, just when she thought she had finally gotten her shit together.

She knows it’s a mess of her own making, for once again allowing emotions to prevail over reason, but it still hurts, the pain somehow worse than it was a decade ago. Back then, when she and Ellen first walked away from each other, Pam knew that Ellen would always have a piece of her heart. But now? Now it feels like she left it entirely in Houston, her chest aching and hollow.

She answers the phone on her desk without thinking, on autopilot after a late drive back to Austin, a sleepless night tossing and turning on a motel bed, and not enough caffeine in the shitty coffee from the faculty lounge.

“Pam Horton,” she says in the most upbeat voice she can muster, cradling the receiver to her ear.

“Pam, it’s Larry.”

Breath catching in her throat, she’s torn between dread and hope. She briefly considers hanging up, but Larry’s next words make her hand still.

“She’s a mess. You’ve gotta at least talk to her.”

Tears sting Pam’s eyes and she squeezes them shut. “I can’t do that.” She knows she couldn’t bear to hear the heartbreak in Ellen’s voice, or worse, see it spread across her face.

“Why not?”

“You already know.”

Larry sighs on the other end. “Look, I know you think you’re doing what’s best for Ellen. But she deserves a say. Don’t take that away from her.”

She wants to snap at him to mind his own damn business, irritation spiking. She doesn’t need Larry twisting the knife when he’s had a decade of reaping the benefits of his marriage to Ellen. But she bites the inside of her cheek and manages to refrain. It’s not Larry’s fault that things are the way they are, at least not entirely. Pam keeps her voice steady when she says instead, “Thanks for calling, Larry.”

“Pam, wait--”

“Bye.”

Pam hangs up the phone quickly, already feeling worse than she already had. But she refuses to cry. It’s all for the best, she tells herself as she leans back into her desk chair. For all of them.

She got over Ellen Wilson once before.

She can do it again.

Eventually.

But today is definitely not that day.

Especially not when Pam’s hunkered down inside one of the college’s fallout shelters, breathing in stale air and wondering like the rest of her students whether the next breath could be their last. They’re surrounded by thick slabs of concrete and rebar. In one corner are two massive water tanks that the custodial staff have been trying to fill since the harsh blare of the air-raid siren blanketed the campus in panic and confusion. A few other instructors huddle around a transistor radio, anxiously awaiting any word that the emergency is over.

If Pam could, she’d laugh at the absurdity of it all. Because of course the world could end in nuclear armageddon the day after she left the love of her life.

She knows she should try to comfort her small class of budding writers, who fidget on the cold metal of their folding chairs. Should maybe tell them that everything’s gonna be all right. But Pam knows better than to lie, so she keeps silent, mind zigzagging from one thought to the next.

Pulse pounding in her temples, she wonders if her parents made it to their bunker and wishes that she had returned their last calls sooner. Hopes, with a pang between her ribs, that Elise has made it to safety. Tries not to imagine Flannery, their Maine Coon cat, cowering beneath what used to be their bed.

But most of all, she thinks of Ellen.

Always Ellen.

She allows herself, in a moment of weakness, to envision how the morning would have gone if she had just stayed. Pam would have held Ellen close, forever amused by the fact that the fearless astronaut--the girl who caught the tank, no less--always preferred to be the “little spoon,” back tucked snugly against Pam’s front, their legs curled into one another’s. And before she’d have to slip out of bed to solve the latest crisis at JSC, Ellen would’ve turned in Pam’s arms and warmed her with a gentle kiss.

Regret squeezes her lungs so hard, she almost can’t breathe, and she forces herself to suck in air and push it back out. It must come out harsher than she intends because one of her students leans toward her, forehead creased with worry.

“You okay, Ms. Horton?”

Pam’s lips form a wholly unconvincing smile. “I’m fine, Judy.” Snapping out of her stupor, she reaches inside her messenger bag on the floor, pulling out a small notebook and a pencil.

“What’re you doing?” Judy watches Pam flip to an empty page.

“Pouring out a double,” Pam deadpans. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“How can you write at a time like this?” Another student, Valerie, asks.

Pam can’t tell them the truth. That if she doesn’t do this, she just might break down entirely.

So she merely shrugs as she presses lead to paper. “How can you not?”

Somehow, the world survives.

All thanks to a handshake in space.

When the news breaks over the radio, Pam is weak-kneed from relief, clapping and cheering with her students and colleagues. She wipes away the wetness on her cheeks as pride swells within her, knowing that astronauts she’s known and loved saved them all.

In some small way, it makes her feel justified in her decision to leave Houston. Even though Ellen herself wasn’t on the Apollo, Pam knows she would have been involved in the ultimate outcome. Ellen was born for leadership, and had so much good yet to do. Pam did the right thing in removing herself as an obstacle on Ellen’s path. Right? Right.

Her fellow professors want to celebrate their new lease on life. But Pam’s exhausted and wants nothing more than to crawl back to her motel room with some bourbon and pass out. So she takes her leave, picks up Chinese takeout, and swings by the liquor store where she buys a bottle of Michter’s, convincing herself that she selected it for its quality, and not because it’s Ellen’s favorite.

A shower, full belly, and three sheets to the wind later, Pam finds herself on top of the squeaky motel bed, surfing the late-night news for NASA coverage. Purely as a concerned citizen, of course, and not to catch a glimpse of the agency’s beautiful acting administrator. There’s nothing, though, and Pam lays her right arm over her eyes to block out the spinning room.

She dreams of Ellen.

Always Ellen.

They’re on the gray surface of the moon, surrounded by the twinkling darkness of the star-studded universe. Ellen, in her white space suit, is walking in the distance, her legs skip-floating across the dusty surface. Pam, however, is left exposed in the vacuum, unfathomably alive as she runs after Ellen. Or makes the attempt, hopping in weak gravity. No matter how hard she tries to cross the distance, the farther Ellen seems to pull away.

Her chest hurts, but Pam calls out anyway.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

Please.

Her words are swallowed by cold silence.

Pam wakes with a gasp, swallowing air into her lungs, heart pounding against her ribs. Blinking rapidly, it takes her several long seconds to remember where she is, the motel room slowly coming into focus. The television’s still on, now airing the morning news. Empty takeout boxes remain scattered on a small desk. For some reason, the room’s phone is off its hook, dangling off the side of the nightstand to her right.

Pam chokes back a sob.

Ellen doesn’t try to contact her, as Pam feared she might after her last conversation with Larry.

She should feel relieved. It's what she had wanted, and intended, when she left the letter on Ellen’s bed. And yet, she can’t stem the undercurrent of disappointment that lingers.

The news about Tracy and Gordo Stevens breaks while Pam's searching for a new apartment. Sitting in her favorite pub in Clarksville, tucked away on a quiet street in the historic neighborhood, she’s halfway through the newspaper classifieds when a sudden hush descends. One of the servers turns up the volume on the television above the bar. Photos of Tracy and Gordo in their blue flight suits flash on screen, their smiles confident and bright.

A news anchor says something about an accident at Jamestown, and how they and two other astronauts had lost their lives during the repairs. The exact details are lost on a shell-shocked Pam, a pencil slipping through her now slack fingers. It seems like only yesterday that she was pouring drinks for them both. They had been two of Pam’s favorites--Gordo with his terrible jokes and off-key singing, and Tracy with her kind smile and quiet determination.

They had always treated Pam as one of their own, and she can’t believe they’re gone.

It doesn’t feel real, and yet it’s now reality.

A few weeks later, every channel airs the funeral in Arlington National Cemetery. Elise has it on the television when Pam drops by their house to pick up the last of her things. Well, it’s not their house anymore, technically. It’s Elise’s until the lease to the small rambler expires at the end of the month.

They haven’t seen each other since Pam had left Elise for Ellen, and it’s every bit as awkward as Pam expected. Elise has every right to be hurt and angry, and Pam wouldn’t blame her if she felt the need to lash out. But Elise is civil, almost disconcertingly so, keeping her expression neutral as she walks ahead of Pam to the living room.

“I went ahead and packed the rest of your stuff.” Elise crosses her arms, maintaining her distance.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Pam ducks her head. Elise is nothing but efficient. It’s one of the things Pam loves about her. “But thank you.”

“I’ll let you get to it.” Elise nods and returns to sit on the couch.

A suitcase and several boxes are waiting next to the dining table. Flannery greets Pam instantly, curling around her ankles. Smiling, Pam bends down to pick up the orange Maine Coon.

“Hey, little guy, I’ve missed you,” she murmurs into his soft, fluffy fur. Flannery purrs in response.

On the TV screen, the president is giving a speech at the cemetery’s white-marble memorial amphitheater. Behind him are four coffins draped in the stars and stripes, and Pam’s heart clenches.

“Did you know them, too?” Elise cradles a mug between her hands as she watches the coverage.

“I knew the Stevenses, yeah,” Pam admits quietly.

“Guess there’s a lot you didn’t tell me,” Elise huffs out.

Guilt courses through Pam as she gently lowers Flannery back onto the floor. He meows in protest. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. It was just a part of my life I wanted to forget, I guess.”

Elise doesn’t respond, her eyes glued to the news coverage, where the camera pans to the crowd. Pam’s breath stills when she catches a glimpse of Ellen in black standing solemnly between Danielle Poole and Molly Cobb. She’s on screen for less than three seconds, but it’s enough to discombobulate Pam, who tamps down another swell of grief.

“I’m surprised,” Elise says suddenly, turning her head to regard Pam. “That you’re not there with her.”

I would be, Pam thinks, in a better world. But that’s not the one they live in, and Pam’s not even sure she’ll live to see the day when relationships like theirs will be accepted or, at the very least, tolerated without condemnation.

“It’s not my place,” Pam says vaguely.

She can’t bring herself to tell Elise the truth of what she had done, how in the end she had let Ellen go for the greater good. The pain is still too fresh. Without elaborating further, she picks up the first box with a slight grunt. It’s heavier than it looks.

It takes only a few minutes to load up her car, both amazed and sad that the tangible portion of a life with someone amounted, in the end, to so very little. Elise meets her just outside the storm door with the suitcase, saving Pam one more trip inside.

“Listen, I just…” Elise bites the corner of her lip, brow pinched. “I want you to be happy. And I’m trying to understand, but…”

“I know.” Pam attempts a smile she’s sure comes out half-hearted and weak. “I want you to be happy, too.”

“Just not together.”

“Elise…” Pam exhales slowly through her nostrils. A car rumbles down the street behind her. “I think,” she swallows against a lump forming in her throat, “if Ellen hadn’t walked back into my life, you and I would still want different things.”

Disappointment ripples across Elise’s face, and another wave of remorse washes over Pam. Children have been a sticking point between Pam and Elise, and it isn’t an issue that would simply resolve itself with time. Elise deserves someone who wanted, without hesitation, to build a family with her. And as much as Pam loves her, she just isn’t that person.

Pam takes in a deep breath. “We were friends before. Maybe… maybe one day we could be again.”

Elise only stares, blinks once, twice. “Maybe. I need some time, I think.”

“I understand.”

Nodding, Elise opens the screen door, but pauses before stepping back inside. “Take care of yourself, Pam.”

“You too.”

The door closes with a soft click that nevertheless feels loud in its finality. On a long exhale, Pam picks up the suitcase and walks away.

Life moves on, as it always does, without a care for tragedy or triumph.

In some ways, it’s easier than the last time Pam put herself through a hard reset. She’s not starting from scratch in a new city, or struggling to make ends meet as she works her way through grad school. She has her health, her career, and her freedom to live her life out in the open.

Pam settles into her new apartment in Clarksville. It’s better than the hole-in-the-wall she had rented way back when in Houston, but not by much. Still, it’s hers and she’s grateful for the distraction of unpacking, organizing, and decorating. Between those tasks and teaching, she doesn’t have time for much else.

But sometimes, in quiet moments alone, usually in bed staring up at her dark ceiling, her mind wanders and wonders--just how different would her life be if she had gone down the roads not taken. What if she had stayed with Ellen a decade ago? Could she have tolerated Ellen’s marriage to Larry? Would she have been able to stand the constant fear and anxiety from Ellen’s stints on the moon, not being able to have the same privileges as other spouses and wives? And what of Ellen’s potential foray into politics? Could Pam have found the strength to support her without resentment?

Pam doesn’t know, and will never know, but she explores the possibilities in poems jotted down in notebooks, stories scrawled in journals, and snippets scribbled on restaurant napkins and whatever scraps of paper she can find when the muse strikes. It helps, she thinks. Or hopes.

And so she pushes forward one day at a time: eat, sleep, teach, write. Eventually, she becomes so engrossed in the routine that she blocks out nearly all else, completely missing the news about NASA’s acting administrator stepping down to the surprise of the Reagan administration.

"Pens down, that's all she wrote folks!"

There's a palpable sense of relief around the room, even as some of the first-year students groan when Pam calls time on their final exam.

"Come on, it wasn't so bad, right?" She smiles from her desk as they turn in their papers. "I'm proud of you all. Have a terrific break."

Pam gets up to erase the instructions she had written in the blackboard. The chalk dust makes her nose crinkle, and she brushes her hands off on the front of her pants. Once the classroom empties out, Pam gathers the exams and slips them inside her messenger bag, cursing under her breath when she accidentally knocks a pen from her desk.

As she bends down to retrieve it, the door opens once again.

"Be with you in a sec." Pam stretches her arm to grasp the pen. Straightening back up, she turns to greet her student. "What can I do for…"

Her heart stops.

Ellen Wilson smiles.

"Hi, Pam."

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Day Thirteen

Hello loveys! Happy Sunday! Here we are at the penultimate chapter! If you’ve been reading, thanks, if we’ve spoken, love, and if you’ve reblogged, you have my heart! Thanks to @emulateharry for the read through.

Enjoy! All The Love- Tam

Day Thirteen: The One With The Fight

"Why do you do this?" His voice was so pointed it cut her distraction.

"What?" Elise looked up from where she was laying on the guest bed she thought of as hers. She'd slept here every night, until she had slept with Harry. She'd been in with him since. And yesterday, after the scrabble sex, he had pulled her legless and naked to gather up her things.

"I'll help you pack!" He'd pulled out the top drawer and a pair of her drawers first thing and looked back with a crocodile grin.

"Harry!" She could feel her blush. Which was patently ridiculous since she was naked. "Those are my underwear." She was fucking whispering.

He wore amusement, since he didn't have another stitch on. He tossed her underwear to her as he passed her to the bathroom. "I'll handle your toiletries then. I'll leave you to your," he put his hand on the opposite side of his mouth and whispered "unmentionables."

She could hear him laughing. He hadn't even bothered to suppress it.

"Fuck you, Styles!" She yelled and he got louder. Should such provocation go unanswered?

Elise went in and tackled him. He was bigger than her and much stronger, so naked wrestling tended not to last that long. He had her flat on her back, pinned and winded, quickly. At his mercy was a good place to be.

Long story short her things stayed in the guest bedroom, but she stayed in his room, again.

He'd woken her with breakfast, that he'd had postmated in and they'd stayed in bed playing on their phones until long past noon.

Harry was officially addicted to animal crossing. Not as addicted as he was to the gym though. By 2 he was so energetic Elise was ready to punch him and she had playfully kicked him out of bed to send him to get his energy out like a kid on a long road trip. "Please go run or do some other ridiculously athletic thing." She'd said while prodding him in the ass with her toes. She watched him get dressed, and Harry was so good for an audience, he made a show of it for her.

He'd kissed her goodbye, well, and went away with a "move your stuff in!"

And she'd gone to her room, really she had, with some intention of packing. Once she was in there, alone, she had realized it seemed stupid to move her stuff for two days.

Was it two days?

And therein lay the problem.

Harry was acting like their rom com inspired tryst was going to continue indefinitely. He had not talked about it, like at all their impending deadline. He had only made one mention of time; they needed to finish friends in a couple days.

She was all in her head again. He was so confusing. Of course she wanted to stay in the fantasy, but if she moved into his room and committed in her head to this and then he said good bye in two days... Well, it might be as devastating as what happened with her family after Bryce.

Jesus. She stared at her book, the one she wasn't reading. Had she really just thought that? That a mild rejection after a short love fest would be as hurtful as the trauma that sent her running to another country.

With her family, it was miserable because she was persona non grata, but persona presens. They were all stuck in the same place, but after the initial fight with her sister, the literal siding of her mother with her sister and her father's shaken head and scornful look, it had kinda stopped being overt.

That didn't mean she was unaware of exactly where she stood in that house with her family. No one was screaming 'slut!' anymore, but there were cold shoulders and silent treatment from all of them. Screaming would have been better.

Or to be kicked out.

That may have jump started her flight, if they had actually 86'd her, which leaving clearly was something of a blessing. At the time, the chilly feeling in her house kept her at the library long hours. Her GPA was stellar the last semester of her senior year, and she made some actual friends. They had stayed in touch even when she moved to another entire continent. It dawned on her she had been so distracted by the sexy imp she was falling for, she hadn't checked on anybody. That needed to happen, specially in a global pandemic.

In any case, Elise was imagining how it could go. If she got up the gumption to ask him. He could tell her, 'it's been real, it's been fun, but it hasn't been real fun. Appreciate the pussy, goodbye.' The idea was strangely comforting, Harry's rejection would be swift, she'd only have, at most, 36 hours of misery in his home. After the 8 months with her family, that was child's play. Open contempt, with words, she thought she could stand too. Though she suspected it would look more like casual indifference. Harry was too kind to be mean about it. He'd probably just assume she was having fun like he was.

Elise realized she was already convinced of the worst case scenario. It was a habit of hers, born of experience. She was less likely to be disappointed if she wasn't hopeful.

But she was hopeful, there were little glimmers that Harry would want her to stay, or keep seeing her.

"Fuck this!" Elise muttered. She needed a pro and con list. That was how she decided to come to London. Her pro side had been longer, but her con had simply said, family hates me. It was enough, that negative, to fuel the positive.

This list, it was the same. On the Harry likes me and the love fest continues side, the list was long, and made her smile thinking over the last two weeks. The pro side had all the little things. How he treated her. The breakfasts in bed, their games, the baking, the flirting, the touching, the kissing, the ...

The other side had one entry, Friends. Even though she had spelt it out cutely, like it was on screen, punctuation in the middle, but no color, she only had the blue pen, it was still devastating.

One entry made her run and one made her hide. Wow! She had some courage, didn't she? Elise "run and hide" Jameson. That should be her name. How much did it cost to legally change your name?

In any case, that was what she was doing and had been doing for hours by the time Harry came to find her. Elise was hiding.

"Why do you do this?" he asked from the door.

"Hmmm?" She tried to give a blank expression, like she didn't know what he meant, but of course she did.

He sighed, like the conversation was exhausting, like they had had it so many times he had run out of words to say. Elise nearly scoffed. Where did he get off. They'd never talked about it, that was the problem, they didn't talk about anything. Which was funny, they talked all the time. Just not about pertinent things. She was just supposed to read his mind or suss out all of his intentions from his actions. And his actions were good, so she had done that for some time now, but it wasn't enough.

"What do I do?" she kept up the confused act, she didn't want to ruin their day. Huh, maybe that's why he didn't ever bring it up. He didn't want to ruin the time they had. The finite nature of their time, made it sweeter of something. They only have one and a half left. She didn't want to fight. Elise hated conflict of any kind, and she wanted to savor having him, even if only for 14 short days.

He sighed again, louder. "Whatever, Elise." He closed his eyes and swallowed. She watched his fists ball and then relax. When his eyes opened, his face had relaxed a bit, though his jaw was still tight, and his irises fairly glowed. "Are you hungry?"

Her stomach lurched. She was hungry, though she wasn't sure she could eat. Usually, Harry would extend a hand, or wait for her to pass. Instead, he just nodded and her "yeah." and went out of her room.

Her room. She'd never moved her stuff.

She was biting her lip the whole way down. This was going to be the most uncomfortable meal of her life, which was saying something.

It wasn't. She could think of at least 10 meals with her family that sucked worse. Those were supremely uncomfortable, like a pair of panties that ride up too much or socks that fall into the back of your shoe over your heel. That was a wholly foreign feeling in Harry's house. It had gone away within minutes of her being there day one.

This meal was like pants that slide down your hips a little, a tad irritating, but you just had to hike them up and get on with it.

"Will you pass me a salt sachet, please?"

"Yes, of course." She replied.

Their every exchange was like this, stifled and like a meal in a period piece. She was glad they both had manners, but they'd licked each other's come up, so the formality felt wrong. Elise almost brought it up, "Harry?" She'd started.

He'd looked up and his jaw was still a little tight even if his dimple was starting to fill up with air. He inclined his head and she couldn't stand the thought of the next day being miserable instead of uncomfortable. Or of leaving. They could probably rationalize at this point they were both fine.

It dawned on her, Harry probably could have got his hands on tests, if he wanted to. She'd think about that more later. When she wasn't losing her nerve.

"Did you like your food?" She searched for conversation while she helped him clear up.

He exhaled and nodded. Started cleaning up. Went into the media room, didn't wait for her again.

He turned on Friends, and she wanted to scream. As the episodes proceeded, they crept towards each other, most of the motion coming from her side. On their third episode, he looked up at her right next to him. He stared at her long enough to get her attention, and then long enough to make her a bit nervous that there was something on her face. She was just about to ask 'what?' when he shook his head and opened the arm next to her.

She exhaled and fit herself into the pocket of his armpit happily. When he lay back, she cozied into her spot in the hollow of his chest like it was home. She had better soak this up she told herself. The shiver of pleasure all over when he tangled his fingers in her hair was recorded, the kiss to her hair was put to memory, and the span of his thumb to his pinky on her lower back was mapped. She'd always remember what it was like to be in Harry's arms and know him, intimately. Even if they ended soon

He probably dozed, he usually did. Elise was pretty sure she did as well. Sleeping happened at night, but other activities kept them up as well. She'd miss that too. The shape of his wet lips and contrast of his long pale hands on her olive skin, the look on his face when he came and the satisfied sigh just after. That was probably her favorite.

"Where is your head at?" Harry asked during dinner. Elise realized she had stopped where she was carrying the cauliflower she'd curried over to the chana masala he'd whipped up.

"Hmmm?" She looked up, still lost in memorizing the way they choreographed their parts in the kitchen. They rarely invaded each other's dance space, unless Harry did it on purpose to steal a kiss off her.

"You seem distracted." He had stepped forward and smoothed her hair behind her ear, cupped her jaw. If she wasn't distracted before he pressed his mouth to hers, she was after.

"You're gonna make me drop the veggies." She giggled breathlessly up at him.

"They can wait." He'd taken them gently from her hands and deposited her on the edge of the counter before stepping between her legs. "These house dresses you wear are so convenient." He was busy pulling it up to her hips.

"Thank you for not calling it a mumu again." She laughed as it came over her head. "I'm glad you waited until after the cooking was done."

"How about we cook clothed and eat naked. Now, lie back, I'm very hungry."

"I'll be sure to think of England." She joked.

"Oh no! Only me." He licked the crest of her belly button.

He effectively erased her mind until all she could think about was his taste, and her own on his lips. She became mindful again of the present moment when the gentle popping sound of him pushing through her pulsing muscles hit her ears.

She would miss this. His appetite and weird predilection for kitchen sex.

"Where'd you go?" He slowed his stroke and looked her in the eye.

"What?" She didn't know what he was talking about. She clearly hadn't gone anywhere. She was interlocked with him, like the salt and pepper shakers behind her, again.

"I had you, right here, and then you went away."

How did he know her mind wandered? Elise had barely had time to worry or map the moment before he noticed.

His arms were crossed over her back like a pirate's destination. She felt like treasure. So she lifted her hands from the purchase on the counter's edge. Held his jaw and locked their eyes, opened up their connection. It was impossible to look at Harry's face, his eyes and not find riches. "I'm here."

"Good." He breathed and picked up his rhythm again, held her eyes and her body, until his closed over the sensation. "It's where you should be." He breathed.

This is where she should be. Those words hit her sweet spots, just as his cock did. Her neck went soft, and he cradled it. Her eyes blinked open and her cunt bore down and she came before she could announce it, notice it. "Harry!" He made her so loud.

"Elise!" He fucked through her muscles trying to push him out until she was shimmying to her next high in his arms. "I'm gonna come." He grunted.

"More," was all she could get out. And he could do it, she knew he gritted his teeth and doubled his effort and got her there, her contractions causing his seize.

She was his.

Now, how did she tell him that?

He laid his head on her chest. She could feel the sweat of his forehead running between her breasts. Her hands were in his hair and her heart was under his heel. Now, now is the time to tell him that. Show him her belly, while he is in it.

She didn't. It took her one moment to have the thought, and only half second to take it back. It was the worst time to confess love to someone, while making love with them. Plus, she wasn't sure she could take him grinding her heart into the flooring right after grinding her body to heaven. She petted his head instead and bit her lip through her tears.

Then she felt him laugh, the cool exhalation blowing the drips on her torso. It felt delicious. His laugh tasted so good. Elise wouldn't do anything to make him uncomfortable, to lose this. She'd take what she was given, be a good girl and get what she what she gets and not throw a fit.

He looked up at her and she hoped the tears that had leaked just blended with the glow of aftermath.

"Now I'm really hungry." He was a sunbeam. "Let's heat up the food."

"It probably would have been better right off the stove," she said later as they are eating.

"Hob." He said. "The appetizer was worth it though, wasn't it?" He danced his eyebrows.

"Maybe." She knew she was blushing. He was laughing his bursting laugh and she knew this memory would last her whole life.

She recorded other things for her posterity throughout the rest of the night and she got away with it. He left his frustration where it had been earlier. Until bedtime.

"I need to grab some things," she told him when they'd kissed their way naked. She'd fall asleep afterwards. She needed to brush her teeth and things.

He stiffened.

The sun had shut off and its shadow was cold.

His arms dropped from around her waist.

"Why didn't you move it in earlier?"

"What?" She knew he asked her to earlier, but she got out of answering, thought she had avoided this confrontation.

"We talked about it. You were gonna move your stuff over here. We agreed." He said.

"Did we?" She asked, a little pissed he assumed his word was law. She pulled away, grabbed her t-shirt off the end of the bed, and threw it on. "I think you told me to do it. I didn't say ok."

"What's the point of you having your own room if you sleep in here every night?"

"That's a great question." She rounded on him then. "What is the point?"

"I didn't follow you round that bend, love." He said. "What's the point of what?"

"Me moving into your room." Obvious! She scoffed.

"I think it makes perfect sense. We sleep together every night now." He'd calmed his voice like he was talking to a screaming toddler. It pissed her off. "It's right inconvenient too. Like now, you were gonna put the brakes on to get your stuff." He looked down at the boxers around his ankles and pulled them up.

"You could wait five minutes to get laid Harry!" She rolled her eyes.

"I wasn't trying to get laid." He said lowly. "Was trying to be close to you. But you're gonna run away again. May even hide." He'd lost his former cool by the end of it, voice pointed like earlier. "Like you always do."

"I don't run."

She did.

"You do. And I have to chase you everyday outta your room." He sighed. "One day I may not and you can see how you feel then."

"What day? Tomorrow is our last day!" She screamed without meaning to, finally shouting all her fears.

Harry looked like the dawn coming up. "Is that what you're so afraid of?"

[actlikeyoudidntdoit]

Trust Long Gone

Description: Arno was able to save Èlise from Germain’s blast, bearing the consequences of his actions. Èlise, after giving him to the Assassins for aid, is too ashamed, humiliated, angry, and guilty to face Arno again, so she leaves him in the care of his Brotherhood, not knowing that she was currently carrying his child. Four years years later, Èlise is continuing where her father left off in making a truce. Yet not many people seem too fond of her decision, and in the dead of night, her daughter Julie de la Serre is taken. Running out of options, she turns to the last person who has any chance of finding her before the unimaginable happens.

————————————

“You picked the wrong house to rob,” an all too familiar voice spoke up through the darkness, hearing the all too familiar click of a pistol by Elise’s ear, “I’d suggest getting out before I show you why.”

He didn’t recognize her. In this blasted darkness, she couldn’t see past her own nose, so she doubted even he’d be able to recognize her through the black.

“That’s some welcome,” she couldn’t help but remark, finding some irony in the fact that the tables had turned after all this time. She couldn’t see his reaction, but her voice seemed to be enough for him to lower his gun. The darkness was no help to her worry, not sure of his reaction to seeing him after all these years. Would he be angry? Would he be scared or would he be quick to kick her out in a rage? After leaving him on his own for all this time, she supposed it would be a justified action. Yet he didn’t shout, he didn’t back away in disbelief. For a moment, he just stood there, and she wished he could light a damn candle so she could look him in the eye and speak to him face to face like she needed to. Yet… after what Madame Margot told him, did she really want to?

Elise came here knowing that this was going to be one of the tensest moments she would ever experience. They hadn’t even spoken yet, but this was a nightmare to her nerves.

“You could have just knocked,” he said blandly, hearing his receding footsteps to her left, jerking her head to find that her eyes adjusted just enough to see his dark silhouette receding into his kitchen, grabbing what she assumed to be a cup, “I thought we left the stealth thing years ago.”

“Nice to see you too,” she said with uncertainty, not sure if she liked how calm he was being about her first appearance after four years of silence.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her, “last I heard, you were back with the Order.”

“That’s right.”

“If you’re looking to hire my services again, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you,” he dismissed, “I’m not in much hurry to go anywhere.”

“Should I be disappointed that you think so little of me?” Elise couldn’t help but ask.

“I’ve learned to lower my expectations,” if he wasn’t shrouded in shadow, she could imagine he’d be shrugging, and she bit down the hurt, “so what brings you here after all this time?”

“I needed to speak to you,” she spoke, “that is, if you’re not busy polishing your gun in the dead of night.”

He didn’t respond to that right away, and she decided that was good a time as any to finally speak out.

“I know I’m the last person you want to talk to right now-“

“You are,” he agreed, taking a sip in his drink.

“.. but I need your help.”

“There it is,” Arno pointed out, “the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Do take a bow for giving the most obvious and predictable request I’ve yet to deal with.”

“Arno, you don’t under-“

“Understand what?” he bit, “you really have some goddamn nerve to come into MY house after everything you put me through and ask even MORE of me.”

“Just listen-“

“Well, as charming as it was to see you again,” he continued, his complete lack of respect for her making her blood boil as he sat down on the table, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’m sure there’s a dictatorship out there for you to crumble, so I’ll leave you to it-“

“WILL YOU KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND LISTEN?!” she bellowed, but Arno wouldn’t have any of it. Stubbornness ran deep in both of their veins after all.

“I’ve nothing to say to you, Elise!” he snapped, “and whatever request you want for me, you’re wasting your time!”

“My daughter was fucking kidnapped!!” she roared at long last, taking a lot of restraint to keep the word in. Our daughter was what she should have said, but she had a feeling neither of them were ready to hear that yet.

At least he kept quiet for a little while, and that was good a time as any to at least be heard. Not that she expected anything out of it.

“I’ve been trying to find her for days, Arno. I’ve used every contact, blackmail, and bribery I have, but no one has found a single clue.”

“You want me to find her,” he finished for her.

“I have no idea how that thing in your head works, but you were able to track down men who spent years hiding, and that’s all I need to know. You can find out where they took her, I know you can.-“

She jumped when his fist slammed down on the table with a loud crash, quickly cutting her off.  

“That’s not who I am,” he said slowly, something dark in his tone, “not anymore.”

“Have you truly become so heartless that you wouldn’t help a mother find her missing child?”

“I can’t do it,” he enunciated, like he was educating a child himself.

“Bullshit!” she snapped, “stop hiding in the dark and face me, goddammit!”

“You don’t want me to do that,” he warned.

“Do it!”

“No.”

“Do it!”  

“I said no, Elise!”

“STOP BEING A FUCKING COWARD!”

“FINE!!” he bellowed, grabbing some sort of lantern in the dark, throwing the switch on and slamming it down on the table, and after the small flame took time to rekindle, it slowly began to brighten the room. Then at long last, she saw the face of the man she’d left behind so long ago.

Looking at him now, she felt bile building up in her throat as she finally realized what he was talking about. With such little light, she may not have seen much from him, but what she did see would give her nightmares for the rest of her life.

His beautiful chocolate eyes became a foggy white, and with what little was left of them, he glared at her with borderline hate, giving her full view on what her actions all those years ago had done to him.  

“Find someone else to do it,” he bit, “shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

“Arno… I-“

“Now get out,” he ordered, turning away from her and heading towards his room, “I’ve got work tomorrow. If you’re not gone when I come back out, I’m calling for guards.”

“Arno wait-“

He’d already slammed his door shut, shutting her out. If he hadn’t, she’d have probably raced out anyway to escape the fact that she couldn’t get the image of Arno’s eyes out of her mind. So get out she did, racing out of the room like he’d summoned a demon to kill her, taking refuge by the wall of a nearby house to escape the way the floor underneath her swayed or her breath wouldn’t slow down. She tried to fight the tears, but it was a pointless fight as he collapsed into the dirt, hugging her knees as she grieved. Grieved for Arno, for her poor daughter with whom she’d lost her only chance of rescue.  

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 12 of don’t read the last page is here!

masterpost

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

“So much is changing right now for both of us, and I’m so happy for you, seriously. But like...what if we change? What if you ask me to move in, and I did, and then later we fell out of love, and now it’s not just a breakup, it’s a whole big...thing? What would you do then?”

Anna chewed on her bottom lip. He resisted the urge to pull it free and kiss her.

"I don't know," she said finally.

chapter 12: a couple of turkeys

Mercifully, Anna fell asleep after the most excruciating forty-five minutes of his life. She was leaning against the window, so he couldn’t see her face, which was probably for the best, because the wounded look in her eyes was absolutely killing him.

“That’s fine,” she’d said quickly after he’d told her moving in together probably wasn’t a good idea. “You’re right, I wasn’t even thinking, I’m sorry. Let’s just-- let’s just get back on the road.”

“Anna, I’m not--”

“Come on, your mom’s waiting.”

“It’s just that I--”

“It’s fine,” she had insisted. “You don’t have to explain yourself. You don’t have to have a reason not to want to live with me.”

And then she’d looked down at her phone and began talking animatedly about how Elsa was already sending pictures of her getaway with Honeymaren and how cute they were together and how they had better let her be the maid of honor at their wedding because this was all due to her, and Kristoff had started driving again, and though he laughed at all the right parts in her monologue neither of them actually smiled.

And then she’d gotten quiet after a while and snuck a glance at him. “Are you upset that I asked you? I’m...I really am sorry if I asked too soon or something. It’s just, um, you know we’re both always like ‘man I wish I didn’t have to go home’ and then. Um. I don’t know. But it’s okay, really. We don’t have to rush anything.”

“It’s not that it feels like rushing. I’m just trying to think long-term, you know?”

“...what do you mean?”

“Just...I don’t know. Sometimes things just don’t...work out.”

“Oh,” she had said, very softly, and that was when she had turned away and rested her forehead against the glass, and neither of them had spoken since.

He wanted to set his hand on her knee, let her know that this didn’t mean he loved her any less, but he didn’t want to wake her, not when the shadows under her eyes were darker than he had ever seen. She hadn’t even started filming yet, and already between the rehearsals all day and the interviews and paparazzi-dodging all night, she was completely exhausted.

If you lived together, the voice in his head said, making his heart ache, then maybe you could help with that.

He would; as tired as he was these days, he’d do whatever she needed in order to help her get at least a little bit of rest. Even if that meant letting her steal all the blankets so that he had to roll over and hold her in order to get any warmth-- and as he thought it, it occurred to him for the first time that that was precisely why she did it.

Fuck.

And he’d said no out of fear that he’d stop being enough for her, out of the certainty that this was going to end, and in doing so had probably sped up the demise of the best thing in his life. 

His fingers clenched around the steering wheel. He wanted to do the right thing, wanted to do right by her. But it felt like there was no right, not when leaving would mean breaking her heart and his own, and staying with her meant he’d only hold her back from whatever- whoever— she was meant for.

A little snore escaped her then, and he felt a sudden twinge of affection so strong he unconsciously pressed a hand over his heart. God, he thought, but what if she’s meant for me?

That was pure, self-indulgent fantasy. Just because they’d been friends who had secretly loved each other all through high school and lost touch with each other and somehow reconnected years later and fallen in love all over again almost immediately and never had an actual fight (until now maybe) and hated being apart and liked the same kind of pizza and fit perfectly together in every sense of the word and—

Fuck, he thought again, but this time there was a sense of wonder about it. 

He had three more hours to ponder over it all before he pulled up in front of his parents’ house, three hours to come to a decision, to formulate an explanation and an apology, to realize that maybe, just maybe, there was a right thing to do. 

Anna was still asleep when he pulled up to the house, but that only lasted as long as it took for his youngest sister to hear the car pull up and run out to meet them, yelling, “You’re here!”

Anna jerked upright, looking disoriented, but the moment Kristoff squeezed her hand she blinked and offered him a smile, one that slid away all too quickly and was replaced by a look of shame. “Anna, I—“ he started, already knowing he’d do everything in his power to make it up to her as soon as he could, but he was interrupted by another squeal of delight as his mother ran up to meet them. 

He squeezed Anna’s hand quickly before she could get out of the car. “Talk later?”

For some reason, that only made her look even sadder, but she just nodded and hopped out of the car to sweep his sister into a hug. “Elise, wow! How have you already grown since this summer, huh?” she said, and despite himself he smiled. 

“Hey, Mom,” he said as he was pulled down into a tight embrace. 

“How’s she doing?” his mother asked, kissing his cheek. 

“She’s okay.”

“You’re taking care of her?”

“Of course,” he said, inwardly cringing. At least that wouldn’t be a lie much longer. 

She kissed his cheek again and freed him from the tight squeeze of her arms. “And how are your classes going?”

“Good, really good,” he said, and she beamed proudly up at him. 

“Kris!” his brother yelled from the open back door, “get your ass in here to watch the game!”

“Nate! Language!” his mother called back, shaking her head fondly as she went to hug Anna. 

Anna’s face lit up. “It’s so good to see you, Mrs. B. I brought, um, I brought a pie.”

Just as Kristoff had predicted, his mother was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude at the sight of the pie, gushing about how much she appreciated it and how impressed she was all the way inside. He followed with a smile, clapping Elise on the shoulder. 

“You guys need to visit more often,” his sister said, giving him an accusatory glance. “There’s too many boys around here now that Lilly’s in college.”

“And I won’t make that worse?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“You don’t really count as a boy. You take showers,” she said with all the wisdom fifth grade had afforded her. “And Anna makes up for you, anyway.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” he said, and Elise gagged. 

“Geez, Kris, you’re worse than the girls at school.”

He didn’t care. He tugged gently at the end of one of her dark braids. “Missed you too, munchkin.”

“Doofus.”

With that, he headed indoors to catch up with the rest of the family. 

Between his sisters asking what it was like getting to be a princess in two movies (“like a dream come true”) and his brothers asking not-so-subtly if this meant she got Lakers tickets for free (“I don’t know, but I’ll ask”) and his mother, to his father’s chagrin, asking dreamily what it was like acting with Hans Westergaard (so that was that guy’s name— to his relief, Anna just shrugged and said “fine”), he didn’t even get a chance to speak to Anna alone until hours after dinner, when the rest of his family had finally gone upstairs to bed, leaving them to get the sofa bed set up. 

“Listen, baby, about earlier—“ he began, but she shook her head emphatically as she tucked in one corner of a sheet. 

“Kris, I really don’t want to do this with your family right upstairs.”

“Do what?”

“You know, break up or whatever.”

“Jesus,” he said, genuinely horrified. 

“Well. Sorry to be blunt. Just don’t see the point in dancing around it.”

He froze, a pillow in his hands. “Do you think I want to break up with you?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I said or whatever. And your sisters are probably listening to this right now, so like I said, let’s just leave it. At least til after lunch tomorrow, okay?”

She laid down on her side, curling up and facing away from him. He sat next to her, putting a hesitant hand on her shoulder. “Anna, I don’t want to break up.”

She didn’t move as she replied. “It’s okay. Seriously, I get it, all the sneaking around and how busy I’ve gotten, like— I don’t blame you. I’m not mad, I just...don’t want to do this right now. I don’t know. I’m tired.”

He leaned over so he could see her face. There were silent tears tracking down her cheeks. “Anna, baby,” he said softly, reaching to brush them away, “I mean it. I— do you want to break up?”

She shook her head, the tears picking up speed, and he laid down behind her, pulling her snug against his chest. “I love you,” he murmured, but still she was tense in his arms. “And I’m really sorry I upset you.”

She turned to face him, and his heart ached at the exhaustion and disappointment and simple sadness muddled in her eyes. “I’m sorry if I, like, pushed you or made you feel pressured or something, really.”

“No, baby, it was all me. I promise.”

She nodded, just barely, and he gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m serious, though, I don’t really feel ready to talk about it right now,” she said, tucking her face against the crook of his neck. “Can we figure it out tomorrow?”

He settled his hands over her shoulder blades, pressing her close to him. “Of course. Whenever you’re ready. I just…fuck. I'm sorry."

“I'm sorry, too. For jumping to the worst possible conclusion."

He kissed the top of her head. "No, that wasn’t your fault. I realize now I, uh, I kind of explained myself in the worst possible way. So sorry for that, too."

 "Well, we're okay now," she said, and a sigh of relief escaped him. He felt her smile against his shoulder as she spoke again. "We’ll figure the rest of it out in the morning.” She yawned against him, nestling a little closer. “Love you.”

“Love you back.”

---

He was awoken the next morning by Elise plaintively whispering, "Wake up, the parade already started, and I want to watch it in here."

Anna, still nestled in his arms, nuzzled her face sleepily against his chest. He ran a hand over her hair and whispered to the girl peeking around the corner, "Can you watch it on mute or something?"

"Kris!"

He chuckled. "Okay, fine. But don't blame me when you find out what a grump Anna is before daylight."

"Fuck you," the grump in question mumbled, only loud enough for him to hear. "I'm a ray of sunshine in the morning."

Elise tiptoed closer. "Lilly taught me how to make coffee. Do you want some?"

Anna sat up then, her mood vastly improved. "Bless you, Ellie. Always knew you were my favorite Bjorgman."

They left Anna curled up on the sofa bed and tiptoed into the kitchen. Kristoff couldn't help but grin as he and his sister pushed their glasses up at the same time; they were both adopted, all his siblings were, but somehow he and Elise had ended up being just alike anyhow.

"How was school last week?" he asked, handing her the coffee scoop she couldn't quite get from an upper shelf.

"Boring. Everyone just wanted to go home for break, even the teachers. We watched Anna's movie in science the last two days because the teacher went to New York."

"Did you like it?"

"Duh! I already watched it like five times. Me and Emma watched it twice at our sleepover last week. I almost forgot and told her I knew Anna, but I didn't. I'm keeping my promise."

He gave her a high five. "Thanks, El. I know it's hard."

"I kinda like it. It makes me feel like Spiderman."

Kristoff laughed as he pulled down three mugs. "Why?"

"It's like, this super cool secret, you know? Like okay, at school I'm president of chess club and I have these big glasses--"

"Hey, I've got glasses too!"

"...but secretly I'm friends with Anna Arendelle. I've known her my whole life. She like, changed my diapers probably."

"Nah, that was all me. She helped teach you how to walk, though."

Elise's face brightened as she stirred her cup of creamer with a splash of coffee. "Really?"

"Yeah. And then how to dance so you could have living room parties together. You could barely say my name, but 'dance, Anna', that you had down pat."

She took a sip from her mug, mirroring him once again. "Are you guys gonna get married?"

He glanced back at the living room, where Anna was finally sitting up and stretching, awoken by the smell of coffee. "Hope so."

Ellie grinned. "Me, too."

They carried the coffee into the living room as Anna finished folding up the sofa bed. She thanked Elise with a hug and Kristoff with a kiss on the cheek, which earned an exaggerated groan from the younger Bjorgman, even as she smiled. He could almost forget the tension from the previous day with Ellie sitting cross-legged between them, but then he stretched his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing Anna's shoulder, and when she turned to meet his gaze there was still a hint of trepidation in her eyes.

"I'm gonna go shower," she said suddenly, rising to her feet. "El, yell if the Snoopy float comes by so I can run out and see it, yeah?"

"Mmhmm," the girl said, engrossed in a commercial about some new Disney channel movie. He tucked that little fact away in his mind for Christmas shopping and gave Anna a smile.

She smiled back at least, but there was still something hesitant about it. He deserved it, he knew, but it stung all the same.

He settled back on the sofa, nodding whenever Ellie pointed out something she liked or commented on the performers, but his mind was elsewhere, running over what he planned to say all over again. He’d had it all so clear in his mind yesterday in the car, but last night’s revelation that he’d made it sound like he wanted to break up meant he needed to start over.

 An elbow suddenly jabbed into his ribs. “Quit moping, Kris.”

“Moping? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You literally just watched the Pikachu float nearly take out a whole marching band and didn’t even smile.”

“Ah, shi— shoot. Tell me you’re DVRing this?”

She scoffed at that. “Obviously. Lilly wants to watch all the Broadway performances, but she was up late talking to a boy again.”

“What boy?”

“I don’t know, she won’t tell me, but— Anna! You’re back! Get Kris to stop pouting, okay? He’s annoying me.”

Anna laughed softly, still rubbing a towel through her hair. “I’ll see what I can do. Kris, you wanna shower while I dry my hair and then go for a walk?”

His heart suddenly picked up speed; he nodded mutely and headed upstairs on Anna’s heels. It still hadn’t slowed down by the time they were outside, walking slowly by the banks of the creek that ran behind his parents’ house and meandered into the woods. 

“Um,” he said finally, wishing she would at least hold his hand. “We are okay, right? Like, okay enough to figure this out?”

She nodded. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“You know I don’t want to, um, break up with you though, right?”

“Yeah, I believe you. It’s just...why did you say those things, then? Like, I totally get it if you don’t want to live together—“

“It’s not that,” he said quickly, “sorry to interrupt, just— sorry.”

She offered him a crooked little half smile. “Good to know. But anyway, like, just the way you explained it made it sound like you didn’t think there was going to be an us in the future. Which was kind of weird, because you sounded so certain when Sam asked if we were in this for the long haul. So…I don’t know. Mixed messages, I guess.”

“I— it’s complicated. Because I love you, and I want to be with you for as long as possible.”

“And it doesn’t feel possible?”

“Not that! Just that...I don’t know. So much is changing right now for both of us, and I’m so happy for you, seriously. But like...what if we change? What if you ask me to move in, and I did, and then later we fell out of love, and now it’s not just a breakup, it’s a whole big...thing? What would you do then?”

Anna chewed on her bottom lip. He resisted the urge to pull it free and kiss her.

"I don't know," she said finally. "I don't know what I'd do. I've never gotten this far with someone before, or even, like, wanted to. But I want to do it with you. Or try, at least. I don’t want to give up now in case it might get hard later.”

His heart was suddenly in his throat. "Fuck, Anna, I'm sorry for being an idiot. Of course I want to try, I just-- I don't know. I guess I thought I...I just didn't want to end up being something you regret."

"Never," she said immediately, her eyes suddenly fierce. "Even if something goes wrong. But I-- god, Kris, maybe I'm crazy, but I really don't think it will. Like, with us, I mean, enough for us to ever want to break up. I just...I don't know."

He cupped her face in his hands; his heart was still pounding, but somehow it helped steady him, holding her like this and seeing the way she looked at him, the way that this time, somehow, didn't scare him anymore.

"Me either," he breathed, and a little smile started to grow on her face. "I just-- I never get tired of you, Anna, I can spend a whole weekend with you and still look forward to calling you to say goodnight. And I thought I missed you a lot when you were in Romania, but now that I know what it's like to have you, it's like...fuck, I'm not much good with words, but I just really, really love you, Anna, I-- I think maybe you're it for me."

Her smile broadened. "You're it for me, too, Kris."

He leaned down to press his forehead against hers, his thumbs stroking gently over her cheekbones. "Will you forgive me?"

"Always."

He kissed her as softly as he could. "Do you still want me to move in with you?"

"Promise to split the last piece of pizza with me?"

"Of course."

"And hold my hand at the end of Titanic?"

"If you don't tell anyone that it makes me cry, too."

"Promise to fuck me silly when we've had a really bad day and need to--"

He laughed against her mouth as he kissed her again. "All of it, Anna, anything you can think of. Anything that means I get to come home to you."

She smiled and pulled back to look at him. "That's all I want, too. Just you."

"That's a yes, then?"

"Yes," she laughed, "yes, I want you to live with me. And I think the only person happier about it than me will be Sven."

a/n: 

i might drabble some stuff i cut from this chapter later, including:

-anna talking about how suddenly all her distant cousins wanted to have a big family thanksgiving for the first time in years, but she still just did a quiet dinner with elsa and now this -ellie telling anna next year she has to bring two pies, and anna just immediately saying "of COURSE" and kristoff's heart melting bc she didn't even hesitate about "next year" -kristoff's parents just smiling fondly at their rowdy lil bunch of kids and anna looking just as happy -lots of hand holding under the dinner table and cheesiness about what they're grateful for

(or maybe it'll end up in the next chapter WHO KNOWS but in case it never gets written, i want y'all to know all that happened)

[alyce0013]

Corpus Christi

A beautiful piano rendition of Moonlight Sonata flowed through the large empty villa. Sunday was family day, so Kihyun was once again alone in the place he had been chained to for the past several decades. He always loved the way the music echoed back to him as he played. This song fit the brooding mood he was currently in, and Kihyun knew allowing himself to be taken away by the melody would improve his mood for when his master returned. He looked up from the keys of the piano into the dark empty sockets of the human skull resting atop of the piano.

"What should I play next my friend?" He asked the skull, smiling sadly. His fingers paused over the keys as he made his decision. Für Elise echoed back to him and flowed through his soul. He closed his eyes giving in to the brooding, somber feeling. Everything he had done these past several decades, the reason he was figuratively chained to the villa, it was all for one person. For her.

Kihyun could barely even remember exactly how her sweet voice sounded anymore. He longed to hear it, escaping to the place in his mind where he kept those memories. He remembered her hair always being a bit of a mess. He had made a joke about how it matched her personality. He remembered her smile, how her eyes would light up as if her soul was glowing through them. The sound of her laugh, loud and contagious. Her voice calling to him, making his heart swell with love and adoration.

"Corpus Christi." Her voice whispered in his mind. His eyes quickly opened wide in shock at how real it had sounded. Kihyun's fingers accidentally hitting the wrong keys and messing up the beautiful piece of music. He glared at the skull in front of him for a moment before he heard the main doors open, announcing the return of the family. He closed the cover of the piano quickly as he rushed to greet them.

"My king." Kihyun offered his arm to take his coat, bowing stiffly in respect.

"Ah, Kihyun, I trust everything went smoothly while we were gone?"

"Of course, my queen." He responded taking her coat as well. The prince and princess waved him away and put their own coats away.

"How are the holiday preparations coming?" The king asked.

"Everything is all ready for you. Starting with appetizers in the sitting room and leading up to the main feast in the dining room." Kihyun felt a sense of pride in how well he set things in motion. He may be here as a punishment, but he wasn't going to let that get in the way of doing the best job he could.

"Competent as always, Kihyun. Thank you." The king praised, smiling fondly. "Join us for dinner, would you?"

"O-of course." Kihyun stuttered, dark brown eyes wide in surprise. He had only been invited to dinner twice before, but never to a feast. It was rare for him to be shocked at all, and now it happened twice in one day. It really was throwing him out of his comfort zone. He was normally a composed, reserved person, not allowing his emotions to show very much if at all.

The royal family passed by him on their way to the sitting room. The king patted him on the shoulder. The queen mirrored her husband's fond smile. The prince showed complete indifference as usual. The princess brushed into him in a flirty way. Kihyun rolled his eyes at the princess's back. She had taken a liking to him a couple decades into his punishment, and constantly enjoyed flirting with him. He denied her at every turn. He was forbidden, and disgraced, but most of all his heart was already claimed.

Kihyun quickly left to the servants quarters to change into something more presentable for dinner. He wasn't going to appear at the holiday feast in his servant clothes in front of the entire royal family. He couldn't be so disrespectful. This feast was the most important feast of the year, about as special as the humans regarded Christmas, which was only a week later. He looked at himself in the mirror, combing his hair back a little and making small adjustments to his three piece suit.

Kihyun walked through the different areas in which servants were working on his way back to the main villa. He had to make sure everything was perfect and inform them he wouldn't be available to help.

"Ah, Kihyun, there you are. For a moment I thought maybe you changed your mind about joining us." The queen addressed him the moment he walked into the room.

"Just making myself presentable, my queen." Kihyun sat in the only available chair, across from the princess as he spoke. She had been staring at him since he had arrived.

"Everything is flawless as usual. I don't know how you do it." The king commented as the main course was placed in front of them. The human, whose skull now sat on the top of the piano, had been prepared exceptionally well, according to Kihyun's instructions.

"Any job worth doing is worth doing well." Kihyun responded.

"You should be very proud. It sometimes seems like only yesterday you were sentenced to work here as punishment for your crime. You started off just a normal servant, but you quickly worked up the ladder until you became my steward." The king spoke as everyone ate. Kihyun was confused as to why he was bringing the past up. His believed his crime was well worth the decades of servitude.

"My penance must be paid, my king." Kihyun bowed his head in respect.

"It was a punishment, and yet you took it on willingly and excelled. I don't think anyone else in your position would have been as hardworking, diligent, and humble as you. You impress me, Kihyun." The king paused for a moment, savoring a piece of human meat. The silence allowed small, quiet conversations to break out amongst the table. The princess had decided at that moment to try to be flirty with her feet under the table. Kihyun pulled his feet back and rested them underneath his chair instead. He saw disappointment flash across her face before he looked over at the other guests at the table. The entire council was here as well as their families.

Kihyun thought back to the last time he had been in front of the king and his council after they had discovered what he had done. He had been brought in with cast iron shackles around his wrists and ankles. He had kneeled in front of them, asking for mercy, and trying to explain. Back then he had fallen so far. He wasn't an arrogant person, but he never expected to ever be begging on his knees at any point in his life.

"Kihyun, should we bring out the other human? This one is almost down to the spine." A servant whispered inconspicuously in his ear.

"Yes, also announce the next course, and prepare for dessert." Kihyun responded just as inconspicuously. He should be behind those kitchen doors, running things, but he knew most of the people under him were more than competent with the right guidance. He just had to trust them.

Kihyun's orders were followed and the king requested a fine wine for the entire table. Kihyun looked around the table at the guests. He still had no idea why he was dining with the entire ruling class right now. The princess seemed to be begging for his attention, but trying her hardest to hide it from her father. He wished she would take a hint and just give up, but the feast continued with barely a hiccup. The main course finished well and the next course was served. The king looked extremely pleased with everything which gave Kihyun a swelling feeling of pride in his chest. He pushed the feeling down a bit, reminding himself of the virtue of humility. He was sure that virtue was one of the main reasons he could be at this table right now.

"I didn't think you could beat last year's decadent feast, but you definitely outdid yourself." The king remarked as dessert was finally brought out.

"It is all due to your exceptional leadership that we are allowed to celebrate so well, my king."

"Before we start eating dessert, I have some things I would like to say to you, Kihyun." The king raised his voice so everyone in the room could hear him. All conversations immediately stopped and all attention was directed to him.

"You have my undivided attention." Kihyun assured him calmly, while underneath his composed demeanor, he was completely panicking.

"As I said earlier, you've served me very well these past few decades, and although you were working as punishment for your crime, you carried out your work meticulously and with humility and diligence. So, I feel you deserve something in return. Honestly, I don't know what we are going to do without you." The king smirked as he said the last statement.

"Without me?" Kihyun asked confused.

"Yes, the council and I have put a lot of thought into your behavior and service, and we have unanimously decided that your sentence is finished. Your punishment is over. Of course, you will never be able to reclaim your status as a prince, but you are a free man once again. All I ask is that you train your replacement if you decide to leave. If you decide to stay, I will make sure you live much more comfortably than you do now." The king smiled at Kihyun as shock took over his face. He couldn't believe his ears. He had waited for this moment for so long, never hoping it would be so soon.

"I-I don't know what to say." Kihyun confessed, stuttering for the second time that day. Shock was still taking hold of his thoughts and body making him unable to decide whether or not this was all a dream.

"Seeing my normally composed, brooding steward flustered is enough to know how much you appreciate this gesture. I do expect an answer as to whether you will stay on as my steward in two weeks. From this moment forward you are free to come and go as you wish. Enjoy your reclaimed freedom, Kihyun." The king then started to eat his dessert. Kihyun's thoughts raced as he finally realized he wasn't breathing at all out of shock. He let out a heavy shocked breath as he looked around the room at approving faces. He was free.

"Corpus Christi." That voice, her voice echoed once again softly in his head stopping all his thoughts except one.

"I need a plane ticket!" Kihyun blurted out a bit louder than necessary. The king laughed at the sudden outburst. It was so out of character for Kihyun to be so emotional, but he couldn't help it.

"Why not just use your own wings?" The king asked smiling fondly.

"It's too far for that. I'd definitely be seen by humans."

"Well, set it up. You know how. You have my full support." The king went back to his dessert and so did the rest of the room. Kihyun excused himself quietly. The only dessert he needed was the freedom he was just granted, and he wasn't gonna waste one second of it. He was going to go find her. His steps hastened as he stepped out of the dining room and out of sight of everyone inside.

Kihyun hastily set up a flight to Texas as cheap as possible, and three days later he arrived in Dallas. He quickly rented a car and started what would be around a seven hour drive down to Corpus Christi. He drove the entire way down to the city, making a plan in his head. He knew her favorite place was the beach. She had always loved the feel of the sand between her toes, the salty water washing over her feet, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. The was no doubt in his mind he would find her there.

The first day was spent at North Beach, which was the most popular one in Corpus Christi. He walked along the water, getting lost in the sound of the waves. He could smell the food from the restaurants along the waterfront.

It reminded him so much of the first time he met her. Kihyun had walked along the water just like now, but back then he had been so deep in thought. There was so much responsibility on his shoulders as prince, and the sound of waves always helped destress him. He was so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed her sitting, allowing the waves to wash over her feet as they came in. He had tripped over her legs, and barely avoided face planting into the wet sand with slight use of his wings. She had laughed at his 'graceful' recovery. Maybe he wouldn't have been so taken with her had she been angry with him.

The sun set on the water creating beautiful colors in the sky. Kihyun had spent the whole day on the beach reminiscing, eating at one of the restaurants, and just walking along the water over and over. She wasn't here. Darkness fell and he decided to try another beach tomorrow.

The second day he spent at Cole Park. The views were beautiful, but there wasn't much sand. He smiled sadly as he hung on a railing overlooking the gulf. This would be a perfect place for a picnic and more of a lazy kind of day. The sun reflected brilliantly off the water as he walked along the pier.

It reminded him so much of their first date. A picnic area overlooking the ocean. She had made a basket for him and he had made a basket for her. They had laid out beneath the canopy of a large tree. Kihyun didn't know what exactly it was then, but he had that floaty feeling of falling in love throughout his whole body. He was so confused as to how he could feel any attraction like this towards a human. It might have been the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke about her passions, or maybe the way the sunlight kissed her skin so gently like she was precious that made him even more taken with her. She had closed her eyes and just bathed in the fresh ocean air and calmness of the moment. Kihyun would swear he had never seen anything so beautiful.

Although he spent the whole day walking the pier, breathing in the calming ocean air, and just soaking up the sun, she had been nowhere on this beach. He sighed sadly, swallowing back tears. Darkness fell on this day and despair started to rise up in his chest.

The third day he spent at South Padre Island. A small smile spread across his face as he shed his shoes and wriggled his toes into the sand. The sunrise caught his eye today as he looked out at the gulf. He walked along the beach close enough to allow for the waves to wash over his bare feet as they came in. He noticed a couple riding horses along the beach close by.

This beach reminded Kihyun of the day he proposed. It had only been two months after he finally confessed his true nature. She hadn't been scared of him at all, not even when he showed her his true appearance. She had just softly touched his horns with wide eyes.

Kihyun wanted the proposal to be special, and, since the beach was special to them, he knew it was the perfect place for special. He had walked over to her with the horses to ride along the beach. Her calm, animal loving nature allowed her to bond quickly with her horse. They rode along the beach as the sun set beautifully on the water, even though he barely noticed it. He had been looking at something more beautiful the entire time. He suddenly dismounted from his horse, causing her to be concerned. She dismounted as well, walking the horse along with her back to him. His palms had been so sweaty, his heart had raced so fast, and every beautiful word he had planned to say emptied from his mind. He still somehow managed to ask her from down on one knee, explaining how she completed him so perfectly. It was his happiest memory. Her absolute joy was indeed more beautiful to him than any sunset on any beach.

Unfortunately, she was nowhere to be found on this beach. Kihyun swallowed back tears once again as the small flame of hope dimmed slightly. He definitely had heard her voice right. She should be here somewhere. He returned to his hotel slightly defeated.

It was on the fourth day at Whitecap Beach where he finally found his heart again. He found this beach to be beautifully peaceful as he started to walk around. He walked along the water, deciding whether or not he wanted to walk the pier as well. He watched a man starting to build a sandcastle for a few moments.

As Kihyun's gaze swept back towards the water a woman caught his eye. At first he couldn't believe it was her. He gazed at her figure in the distance, close to the waves, walking along slowly. The first absolutely genuine smile since he was ripped from her slowly spread across his face. Her hair was messy as always, the wind blowing it beautifully to the side. It was as if time stood still for a moment and his whole body froze in excitement and awe. She was just as beautiful as he remembered.

Kihyun broke into a sprint, not slowing down until he was a couple feet from her. She had stopped for a moment, looking out at the sun rising above the water. He quietly walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and buried his face into her neck. She smelled so good. She smelled like home. A loud gasp escaped her throat as she moved to grab his wrists.

"They gave you back to me?" She breathed, absolute joy filling every syllable. She turned in his arms to face him,running her hands all over his body as if she had to make sure he was real. Her hands settling on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her tighter. She buried her face in his chest as happy tears started to fall down her face.

"Yes. I'm finally free." Kihyun sighed happily. "I missed you so very much!" The tears he had been holding back the past few days started to drip from his eyes.

"I missed you too. I thought you were dead." She confessed, looking up into his soft, dark brown eyes. "I was so afraid you were dead." Kihyun softly wiped her tears with his thumbs as he cradled her face in his hands. He placed a soft, sweet kiss on her lips.

"We don't kill our own kind. That was the first thing I taught you when I turned you." He wrapped his arms around her waist again, pulling her closer, holding her tight as if to say he would never let go. "I was sentenced to servitude and stripped of my title."

"Did you regret it...while you were being punished?" She asked gently, as he kissed her forehead lovingly.

"Turning you? No. I knew turning a human into one of us was illegal, but I was willing to take any punishment just so that I didn't ever have to lose you. It was so very selfish, but so very worth it." Kihyun admitted. She wrapped her arms around his neck, gazed into his eyes, and smiled lovingly up at him.

"They gave you back to me for Christmas." She sighed. "This is the most perfect Christmas present ever."

[mikauzoran]

Adrienette Drabble: Knowledge

Marinette set down her satchel on the café chair across from Nino’s with a heavy sigh. “Please tell me Adrien has spoken to you sometime in the last week and a half.”

“I’ve seen him every day this week, and he just texted me an hour ago. Why?” Nino asked so as not to let on that he already knew the answer.

“Okay. Good. So it’s just me, then.” Marinette sank into the remaining chair and grabbed Nino’s double espresso, taking a sip and making a disgusted face.

“Get your own, Cupcakes.” Nino stuck his tongue out, sliding his drink back to his side of the table.

She glanced over her shoulder at the crowd of people queueing at the counter.

“The line’s too long,” Marinette whined, propping her elbow up on the table and resting her cheek in her hand. She sighed softly. “…Adrien’s been avoiding me. He won’t answer my calls, and his responses to my texts have been super evasive. Whenever we have to be in the same room, he gets antsy and won’t meet my gaze. He runs out of class before I can get out a sentence. Do you know what’s up?”

She eyed him expectantly. 

Nino shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her eyes. “I’m not sure.”

“I know he was kind of down after the breakup with Elise,” Marinette continued, trying to talk it out as she took one of Nino’s napkins and began to tear it into increasingly slender strips. “but he started dating that Marie girl almost right away, and he didn’t seem like he was doing it out of desperation or anything. Do you know if they’re still dating? He hasn’t gone off the deep end again, has he? He’s not sleeping with anyone? Because it kind of feels like he’s done something he’s ashamed of and now he doesn’t feel like he can face me.”

She eyed Nino intently again, hoping for some window onto the problem.

Nino sighed, setting down his pencil and pushing his book on borderline personality disorder away. “Okay. Here’s the redacted version of what I know. Marie broke up with him last week because he couldn’t get her name right. He’s not dating anyone now, and he’s not sleeping with anyone to my knowledge. Actually, he’s been spending most of his time either with me or with his parents. It seems like things are going pretty well, so…I was actually going to ask you what the heck was going on. He won’t tell me what happened, just that he can’t be around you right now.”

“What?!” Marinette choked. “What?!”

Nino shrugged.

“What?!” Marinette repeated.

Nino shrugged harder. “That’s what he said.”

“Why?!” Marinette gaped in horror. “What did I do? The last time I saw him, we were watching anime and baking a cake together. In the un-redacted version, did he say why he couldn’t be around me?!”

“Cupcakes, I am just as lost as you,” Nino sighed. “Look. Did…I don’t know…something happen between you two? Like…” Nino’s tanned skin darkened in a blush. “Did it maybe seem like he was trying to kiss you, or were you lying on top of him while you were snuggling watching a movie, or…something like that time on your balcony? Anything like that that would toe the line between friends and more than friends between you two?” Nino grasped at straws.

Marinette’s eyes went round as a furious blush spread like wildfire across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. “Adrien told you about that?”

Nino swiped off his hat to rub at his forehead with the back of his hand. “Yeah? He…was kind of messed up about it…but mostly about other things tied up with that night…. But there was some discussion of whether that counted as losing his virginity, so…”

“Out of curiosity, what was the verdict?” Marinette couldn’t help but ask.

Nino shrugged. “We decided he could count it if he wanted or not if he didn’t.”

Adrien had decided to count it unless he actually got the opportunity to lose his virginity with Marinette, but Nino didn’t think Marinette should know that.

“…Do you mind me asking what you were thinking that night? That could have gone so bad so quickly, Marinette,” Nino sighed.

Marinette shrugged, looking down at the napkin shreds and picking a few up to tie into knots. “He was a hot mess. I mean, he was kind of having a meltdown, Nino, and, originally, I was just trying to calm him down. I thought a head rub and some nuzzling and a few kisses would help because, I mean, you know how he is. It was all perfectly innocent. I didn’t even kiss him on the lips.”

Nino grunted for her to continue.

She chewed on her bottom lip. “I didn’t account for the fact that he’d be so sensitive. I mean, I’ve seen him make out with his girlfriends before—like, the full-on tonsil hockey—and it never seemed to affect him like that. I don’t know if he was just in a really bad place and that made him even more sensitive than normal, but…it was really a hair-trigger response, and…I had to decide whether to stop and make a big deal of it…or keep going and try to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal for me.”

She looked up guiltily as she confessed, “I know it was wrong to take advantage of him like that, but we were both hormonal messes, and it was kind of a power trip making him want me like that, and I thought…since we were both having a sucky night, at least one of us deserved some release, so…” She blushed, looking away. “I may not have been thinking too clearly in that moment. I know it’s not anatomically possible, but do you think girls can ‘think with their dicks’ too?”

Nino gave a soft chuckle at that. “I know girls with bigger balls than some guys. I’m gonna say girls can think with their dicks too…. Damn. Alya’s is probably bigger than mine.”

Marinette burst out laughing and had to clamp both hands over her mouth to stifle her giggles.

When she managed to calm down, she smiled nervously and hesitantly asked, “Are you mad at me? Have you been mad at me these past two months for what happened between Adrien and me?”

Nino shook his head. “Nah. I try not to get too upset over the things you two do to each other. It messed with his head a little, but I honestly think it would have been worse if you’d stopped. It’s really not a big deal since it didn’t become a toxic, friends with benefits situation. Nothing like that has happened again, right?”

“No,” Marinette confirmed. “I mean, we snuggle and hug and just kind of affectionate stuff—like what I do with Alya—but we haven’t done anything like that again.”

“And nothing else happened recently to cause Adrien’s sudden avoidance?” Nino sighed, removing his cap to scratch at his head. “You didn’t have a fight? You didn’t suddenly announce you were going to be dating anyone?”

Marinette shrugged, completely at a loss. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this tomorrow, though.”

“Oh?” Nino wondered if he wanted to know.

She smirked, and he briefly considered warning Adrien. “I’m going to ambush him and fix whatever this is. I’m going to get him to tell me what the problem is, and, if it’s my fault, I’ll apologize. If he thinks he’s done something unforgiveable again, I’ll remind him how much we love him.”

Nino gave an amused snort. “In laymen’s terms, you’re going to love and tolerate the tar out of him.”

“Exactly.” Marinette snapped, pointing a finger gun at Nino. “…Man, he’s a lot of work.”

“Is he worth it?” Nino wondered.

Marinette had to stop and consider this. “…Ask me again once I get back from ordering my drink.”

“Is he worth it?” Nino inquired again as Marinette returned with her mocha chai latte.

“His friendship? Yes,” Marinette responded confidently.

“Uh-oh. That’s a qualified answer if I’ve ever heard one,” Nino sighed. “His friendship is worth the work, but…?”

Marinette retook her place and leaned back to gaze up at the ceiling. “He’s a really sucky boyfriend. I’m thinking I dodged a bullet.”

Nino’s face plummeted.

“He was such a flake with her and not thoughtful or considerate or… I didn’t like the person he was as Elise’s boyfriend. Sure, he was a lot more stable and calmer and more emotionally and mentally healthy at that point, but…he’d do or say something, and I wouldn’t like him very much.” Marinette sat up and frowned at Nino.

“But at the same time, he was different when he was with me. With me…he was still that dorky, funny, kind, naïve, sweet guy that I’d originally fallen in love with. I don’t know. He was a total brat to Elise, but, with me, he was still my Adrien, so…”

“Do you still love him?” Nino asked while they were at it, peeking into Pandora’s box.

Marinette smiled sadly and nodded. “He may not be the man I thought he was, and he may be broken in places, but there’s still so much to love about him. I’m disappointed in him, and sometimes he really makes me mad, but I can’t not forgive him, you know?”

Nino knew the feeling well. He sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “It’s those damn eyes of his. One look from those big, soulful, sad green eyes, and you just melt.”

Marinette nodded. “Or when he rests his head on my shoulder or smiles or gives me fabric or brings over a new type of weird Japanese candy to try together…when he texts me just to say he was thinking about me…” Marinette hung her head in resignation. “I really need to get over him.”

Nino bit his tongue. “Have you…considered telling him about your feelings?” he tentatively inquired. “Would it help to finally get it off your chest?”

Marinette shrugged and shook her head. “What’s the point? Even if he somehow did return my feelings, it’s not like we could be in a relationship. He was desperately in love with some girl for four years, and she’s absolutely wrecked him for anyone else. It’s going to be a while still before he’s in a good enough place to be able to be in a real relationship.”

“It sounds like you need to find someone else, then,” Nino gently informed, even though he knew it would kill Adrien to lose her. “Honestly, I love Adrien, but, as your friend, I don’t want to see you spend your life pining after him.”

Marinette nodded, staring down into her cup.

“…Can I talk to you about something?” she mumbled several minutes later.

“Shoot, but make sure you aim to kill, Cupcakes,” he responded with a shrug.

She pressed her lips together. “You know my one friend? Minou?”

“The sexy one or the cat that your neighbor feeds?” Nino snickered.

Marinette rolled her eyes and chuckled. “The sexy one.”

“I like this subject.” Nino leaned forward in interest. “What about your sexy friend Minou?”

Marinette’s expression sobered even as her cheeks took on a soft, pink hue. “He told me he loves me.”

Nino’s nose wrinkled. “Again? Geez. He was doing pretty well. What was that? Almost a year and a half he was able to respect your wishes and lay off?”

Marinette shook her head. “No, Nino. He told me he loves me…the other other me.”

Nino’s jaw went slack. “Ooooh. He told Marinette. Damn. The poor guy just can’t get over you. That’s…kind of sweet…in a really sad, tragic kind of way. What did you tell him?”

She looked down at her hands, muttering, “What I always tell him…except…I might have added that I was attracted to him too and that if not for the guy I like…I shouldn’t have told him that. I should have just stuck to the script because now he’s probably thinking he might have a chance, and…”

“Does he not have a chance?” Nino prompted and watched her squirm.

“He…I don’t know,” Marinette sighed in frustration, tugging on one of her pigtails. “He kissed me. It didn’t last long, but it was super intense. He kissed me, and then he ran, and I haven’t been able to get him out of my head for the past two weeks.”

“Uh-oh,” Nino snickered. “Sounds like, after four and a half years, he’s finally cracked you.”

“This is so not funny,” Marinette hissed.

“This is so, so funny,” Nino continued to laugh.

“Jerk,” Marinette spit without heat. “Why do I even talk to you?”

“Because Alya would kill you if she found out you’d been keeping Minou a dirty little secret all these years?” he reminded. “Because I’m the only one you can talk to about…you know. Both of you.”

Marinette balled up a fistful of napkin scraps and threw them at him. “You suck.”

“For a grand total of maybe two people.” Nino grinned toothily.

“Be serious?” Marinette pleaded with entreating eyes.

Nino nodded, swapping his smirk for a smile of compassion. “Cupcakes, go for it. If you’re interest in him and he’s interested in you, do it. Be honest about your situation with Adrien and what you can and can’t give Minou right now, and if he still wants to try a relationship, try a relationship.”

Marinette chewed thoughtfully on her lip. “But…how honest do I have to be?”

Nino shrugged. “Honest enough not to give him false expectations or lead him on.”

“I meant…” she lowered her voice. “Do I need to tell him about…the other me?”

“No, no, no,” Nino insisted, waving his arms vehemently. “Don’t do that. Bad idea. Just…not right now, anyway. Not yet. I mean, you don’t even know what’s going to happen between you. It could be over in a week. You don’t want to tell him and mess up your partnership over it. Wait until it looks like it’s getting serious. At that point, you two will owe it to each other to swap reveals, but…right now, just date him.”

“Just date him,” Marinette mumbled. “Okay. If…When I see him again, I’ll apologize and tell him…that I want to give ‘us’ a chance.”

Nino nodded in support. “There you go. He’ll come back, Marinette. He’s probably crazy about you.”

“He sounded like it,” she chuckled, smiling softly and wrapping a bang around her finger. “I really am kind of excited. I’ve always wanted someone to love me like that, not just her…and now it’s happening.”

“I’m really happy for you, Marinette.” He reached across the table to pat her on the head. “You deserve to be cherished.”

“Thanks,” Marinette giggled, and then a puckish smirk slowly spread across her lips. “Okay. Enough of my relationship drama. Let’s talk about your relationship drama. How about that pregnancy scare the other day?”

Nino rolled his eyes. “Alya was the only one scared. I knew there was a zero percent chance she was pregnant…unless she was cheating on me…which wasn’t a serious concern either. I am deathly serious about protection. I love her too much to put her in that position.”

“You’re seriously awesome, you know that?” Marinette chuckled. “But what if she was really pregnant? Would you be scared? I mean, we’re eighteen.”

Nino shrugged. “‘Concerned’ is a better word. I’d dig her out of a pile of rubble with my bare hands; what’s one unplanned pregnancy? We’d make it work. The timeline would be a little more accelerated than I’d originally planned, but I’m in this for the long haul, so…” Nino shrugged again. “She’s the one with the commitment issues.”

“She loves you too, Nino,” Marinette stressed.

“Oh, I know she does,” he chuckled. “There’s no doubt in my mind where I stand with her. She just hasn’t come to terms with it yet. But that’s okay. I can wait.”

Marinette nodded. “Some people are worth waiting for.”

The words no sooner left her lips than she wondered if Adrien was worth waiting for…if she herself was worth waiting for to Chat Noir.

[theeeveetamer]

👀 really up for any sort of soft and romantic. They’re the cutest! (Previous anon)

Hey! Sorry I’ve been sitting on this for awhile! This is doubling as my Valentine’s Day fic for the year BTW (even though it’s not about Valentine’s day)

Tags: Fluff, Pure Unadulterated Fluff, Some Family Fluff Too, Omegaverse, Omega!Takumi, Alpha!Leo

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17666066

He’d been prepping for this day all week; He was going to cook the kids’ favorite meal, get them all dressed up, and they were going to have a nice family dinner. Now that he thought about it, why did they never do this when Leo was in town?

And why the hell hadn’t he done laundry?! He only had about five decent looking shirts left because he’d been waiting to do the washing until after Leo got home so he could just do it all at once. He grabbed the nicest looking one and threw it on, then went back to rapidly attempting to towel dry his hair to an acceptable state.

“Papa, what do you think about this one?”

Forrest came into the room, already dressed up in his prettiest purple dress, complete with earrings, bracelets, amd just a hint of makeup. Wow, when he told the kid to dress nice he really went the extra mile. Forrest had even curled his hair to perfection. He was so thankful that Camilla had taken some time to help him learn how to do all of that stuff, since he and his mate were so useless when it came to that. When he’d been handed a little boy in the delivery room he’d never thought that one day he’d have to buy his thirteen year old dresses and makeup, but life was funny like that sometimes.

“You look great, baby.” He paused in agonizing over finding the right ribbon for his hair. “Is your brother home yet?”

“Not yet.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “He better be back soon!”

That boy… He always stayed out too late. Takumi swore if he had to march down to the park and drag him back for dinner one more time. Tonight was special, damn it, he didn’t care how much he embarrassed Kiragi in front of his friends. He didn’t have time to go grab him though, the house still needed some cleaning and he still had to make the whole dinner.

Takumi passed the vacuum off to Forrest while he started prepping the food, and he was almost done cooking by the time their youngest got back. Takumi didn’t even look up from his stew when the front door opened.

“Papa! I’m home!”

“Perfect! You’re just--” He stopped cold when he saw his eleven year old son standing in the entryway, coated head to toe in mud.

“What happened to you?!”

The little blonde boy grinned. “We had a mud fight! It uh… It got a little out of hand.”

“Kiragi! You know what tonight is! Go shower and get changed, I’ll not have your father sit down to dinner when you look like a pig wallowing in mud!”

“Yes papa!” He scrambled off to the bathroom.

“Forrest can you go pick out an outfit for him? You know how awful he is at it.”

“Of course!” He set down the dinner plates and ran over to his brother’s room. Normally he wouldn’t care about what Kiragi wore -- and thank gods he didn’t. Takumi had never had the best fashion sense himself, but his youngest was still a child, and he tended not to care about what he wore. This usually worked out, like when he decided to get into mud fights right before the special dinner he’d been planning all damn week.

Well now he would just have to set the table and finish cooking dinner. He checked the time: almost five thirty. Leo was going to be calling around then. He set out the serving platters and finished setting the table just in time for his tablet to get a call.

“Forrest! Kiragi! Get down here, it’s time to eat!”

Both children came running as soon as he called. Kiragi’s messy blonde hair was still wet and dripping from the shower, and his shirt was getting a little damp in the back but otherwise he looked presentable. Takumi tapped the little green ‘accept call’ button and set the device up on its stand at the end of the table. He checked the little camera in the corner as the call connected to ensure that everything could be seen perfectly, then he ran back to his place at the table and sat down.

The face of his mate appeared on screen. He looked tired and slightly annoyed, but he was there. He seemed to be distracted by something just off to the side, but his attention snapped back when he heard a small chorus of “Dad!” coming from the other side of the screen. The slightly aggravated expression melted off of his face when he caught sight of them.

“Hey guys, how have you been?”

Both of them started talking at the same time, each of them so eager to share the details of their day that they ended up talking over each other and making it completely incomprehensible.

“Hey, hey, one at a time!” He scolded gently. “And start eating, I didn’t make this food just so it could go cold!”

They both went silent and started dishing out food from the center of the table.

“And what about you, love? Have you been holding down the fort well?”

“As well as can be expected.”

Leo chuckled. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll be home by this time next week.”

“Gods, I hope so.” He sighed. It was always difficult whenever Leo went away. His trip was only supposed to be two weeks, but he was already missing him like crazy. But now wasn’t the time, so he tried to keep the mood light. “What did you order?”

“Steak? I hope it’s good, though I’m sure it can’t compare to your cooking.”

“Expensive tastes, huh?”

“Hey, if they’re going to drag me away from my lovely mate and two beautiful children for two weeks, then you can bet that I’m going to spend every cent of my company allowance.”

They finished serving and everyone began tucking into their dinner. Well, for Leo it was more of a late lunch, but either way.

“Alright guys, one at a time this time. How have you been?”

Forrest and Kiragi — finally — just took turns chatting about their days. Auntie Elise took Forrest to the mall and got him some new school clothes. Kiragi regaled them all with the epic tale of his mud fight, and despite how upset he’d initially been he had to admit that it was a pretty funny story.

They spent a good thirty minutes to chat and eat together. Then, Leo checked his watch.

“Hey, I have to go now. There’s a meeting in ten.”

“I thought you were supposed to have Saturdays free there?”

The Alpha rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it. It’s informally mandatory. I gotta go okay? I’ll call you later. Love you.”

He grinned as three voices echoed the sentiment back. Then, the screen went dark. With dinner finished the two kids scampered off, and he started collecting up dishes.

The rest of the night was fairly monotonous. He finished the dishes and sat down with the kids to watch their evening shows together. He offered to teach Forrest how to do a fishtail braid, which was about the only unique thing he knew how to do with hair, while Kiragi ran around yelling about whatever cartoon was playing.

It was only after they were both tucked safely in bed and he was heading that way himself when his tablet screen lit up again. He dropped his comb on the dresser and sat down on the bed with the device, feet tucked neatly underneath him. His mate’s face popped up on the screen again, though this time he was all smiles. Or, well, as close to smiling as Leo got. More of a restrained grin, really.

“Oh good, I was hoping to catch you before you put your hair up for bed.”

“Weirdo. Was it a good meeting? You’ve got that stupid look on your face.”

“Just some company drivel. What, I can’t be smiling because I get to see my lovely mate before bed?”

“Now you’re just trying to make me blush.”

It was working, too.

“Guilty as charged. Seriously though, how have you been?”

“Honestly? You’ve only been gone for a week and I feel like a fucking wreck.”

It was getting harder and harder to sleep the whole night through when his mate wasn’t around. They were only a week in and already he was spending more time tossing and turning that he was actually sleeping.

He grabbed a few hair ties and started absentmindedly braiding his thick silver hair.

“Plus you’re going to miss our anniversary.”

He didn’t usually take too much stock in those kinds of things but it was a big deal this year! They’d been together for twenty years! And Leo’s stupid job was forcing him to fly hours away to do a stupid work training across the country, so he wouldn’t be home.

“I know, I know. But I’ll be home soon. Besides, we don’t need to celebrate on the exact date.”

“Clearly you don’t understand what the term anniversary means, Leo. It means exactly one year from the date.”

“Alright, don’t lecture me love. I know, I’m disappointed too.”

“Sorry, I’m just looking for an excuse not to go to bed.” He wasn’t exactly looking forward to another sleepless night by himself.

“Would it help you fall asleep if I stayed on the line?”

���Don’t you have to sleep?”

“Relax, there’s like a three hour time difference.”

He plugged the dying tablet in and got under the covers. It was still late summer,  but he couldn’t sleep unless he pulled the blankets all the way up to his chin… Something Leo would be complaining about endlessly were he here.

Gods he wished he was here.

He flicked off the lamp and shut his eyes.

“Alright then, as long as it's not too much of an inconvenience.”

“You’re never an inconvenience, love.”

He yawned. “Go ahead. Talk about whatever you want to talk about.”

He struggled to stay awake, but Leo barely made it halfway through an explanation of the book he’d read on the plane before he was out cold.

_________

He woke up the next morning to a dark screen and a cold bed. He wasn’t feeling totally refreshed, but it was the best night of sleep he’d gotten all week. Seeing Leo’s face and falling asleep to his voice somehow managed to make him feel even lonelier than before. He grabbed one of Leo’s shirts out of his dresser drawer and headed off to the shower.

When he was done he pulled his pajama pants back on. Then the black button up went on and he buried his nose in the collar. His mate’s scent was stale and faint, but it was still there. He let that comfort him through his morning routine.

It was still early in the morning, and the kids would be in bed for awhile. He really just wanted to curl back up in bed with a good book, but he should probably start on breakfast before Kiragi and Forrest woke up and threw his life into chaos.

A few pots and pans clanged around as he went through the drawers looking for what he needed. Maybe he’d do scrambled eggs? But they had a lot of veggies and cheese that were going to go bad soon, maybe he could do omelettes? But that was so much work…

As he straightened up, pan in hand, something grabbed him around the waist. He yelled and whipped around, cookware primed and ready to hit whoever this was upside the head. He didn’t even look, he just swung.

A hand grabbed his wrist before he could make contact, so he started kicking, eyes wild like a cornered animal.

“Woah, woah! Calm down love! It’s just me.”

“L-Leo?” He immediately recognized his mate’s stunning red eyes, and the pan clattered to the floor.

Takumi shoved him in the chest; The blonde stumbled back a few steps.

“You complete asshole! I thought you weren’t coming back until next week!”

“Yes well… At that informally mandatory meeting they notified us that the leader of our workshop got food poisoning, so we were rescheduling for another time. I took the first flight home.”

“You mean you knew about this when you called me back last night and you didn’t think to tell me?!”

“I wanted it to be a surprise!”

“Well congratulations! You gave your mate a heart attack!”

He closed the distance and hugged Leo anyways. He buried his nose in his soft shirt and drank in his warm, comforting scent.

“I hate it when you leave me.”

He wrapped one arm around his waist and placed the other on the back of his head to draw him close. His Alpha started gently stroking his hair.

“Shh, I know love.”

He balled his hands up in the back of his shirt and nuzzled his mate’s chest. He wanted to bathe in that scent. He wanted to live in that moment forever.

Unfortunately, all good things came to an end. Their little moment was interrupted by the piping voice of their youngest son.

“Dad!”

They broke apart to look at their new arrival. Kiragi was standing at the other end of the hall, baseball bat in hand. His brother was trailing a few feet behind him. When they saw Leo both of their faces lit up, and they ran over to join in on the hug.

“What are you doing with that bat, kiddo?”

“We heard Papa scream, so I was gonna scare the bad guys off!”

He swore, if his youngest son wasn’t an Alpha he would eat his own foot.

“Well, I’ve already called Auntie Camilla to come pick you up, so go get dressed okay?”

They both nodded and ran off back to their rooms.

“Geez, did everyone know about you coming home early but me?”

“I wanted to make today special. So…” His mate took him by the hands and pulled him out of the kitchen. On the living room coffee table was a beautiful bouquet of lilies and snapdragons already set up in a fine china vase. It was just like his mate to think of everything. Where did he even get a bouquet on such short notice?

“You’re such a damn perfectionist.”

“Only the best for my lovely mate.”

“Gods I haven’t even gotten you a present… I’m not even properly dressed!”

“Don’t worry about it, we have all day. And…” He leaned in close, sly smirk on his face. “I asked if Camilla could keep them for the night, too.”

He pushed himself up onto the tips of his toes to kiss Leo.

“Gods it’s good to have you home.”

His mate gave him a toothy grin, right thumb brushing gently over the bond scar on his neck. He shivered under the blonde’s touch.

“Happy anniversary, Takumi.”

[jlpat82]

Not Our Home

Chapter 3

"Elise, I'm telling you, he is real. I've seen him, and I've talked to him. Look." I glanced around the empty stockroom and pulled a vial out of my pocket.

"What is that?" She asked, as I handed it to her. She shook the vial and watched the brown powder bounce back and forth.

"It's soil, dirt, earth. It's from outside." I told her excitedly. She glanced at me wide eyed, ducking her head just lightly.

"It's what?!" She almost shrieked, I shushed her and looked around panic stricken someone heard her. "Sorry, but what do you mean it's soil. This is forbidden, punishable by death if they catch you with it."

"I know."

"I know you know but I don't think you understand. This isn't like one of your other many trinkets. This is a contamination breech. This, this tiny bit of soil, could be down fall of our entire existence. And here you are happy as lark showing it to me, and if I don't report it that's death for me." She pushed it back into my hand, I felt like I had just been kicked. I trusted Elise with my life, she knew about my underground lifestyle. She knew everything there was to know about me.

"Look, I'm sorry, I just thought." I trailed off.

"That being said, that's kinda awesome." She gave me a wicked smile, I let out a deep sigh of relief. "I wonder what else is out there."

"A whole world we know nothing about." I exclaimed full of excitement.

The day seemed to pass by slowly. Every hour was agonizingly slow, very little product came in for us to stock and we had very few customers in the building.

I watched the clock my last hour, the minutes slowly ticked by. Finally the clock struck six and we could leave. I rushed to my locker grabbing my things quickly. Elise sprinted to catch up with me.

"So are you going to come with me?" I turned to look at her, apprehension filled me.

"Jules, I love that this is happening to you and I'll listen to every word you tell me but I just can't. I can't take the risk of getting caught on this one." I nodded, I knew where she was coming from. She had other people that depended on her well being, the risk was too high for her.

"I understand. Have a safe ride home." I turned and just about sprinted out the sidedoor, not going to lie I was disappointed. I could understand her fears, her worries, if my life was different then maybe I wouldn't do what I doing but it wasn't.

The tube was utter darkness, there was no moon out to guide my way. I ran my hand against the cold plexiglass wall to guide me. I listened to my foot steps echo as I walked home. I was deep in thought, wondering what it would be like to cross paths with menacing creature that the watcher had described. Would I be fast enough to escape? Would I be cunning and be able to outsmart them?

It was then at this point it dawned on me, I could hear another set of foot prints. It was walking a few steps faster coming from behind me. Could it be the watcher? I turned my head slightly to hear better, and I heard foot steps coming from ahead of me.

I reached into my pocket, only to releaize that my pepper spray must have fallen out when I stumbled the other night. I slinked, backing up to the tube side, my heart thumped hard in my chest. The foot steps were close as the sound of metal on plastic started to get louder.

If I stood not moving, whatever they were dragging against the wall would surely find me. If I dropped in a crouching position, there was still the possibility of being caught by the metal and then I would be at a disadvantage. I was screwed, I was maybe halfway through tube, and no way to get help.

I reminded myself to breathe easy, as my heart threaten to burst from my chest. Two on one, and I had little doubt what was in the tubes with me. They had me at disadvantage, if it was who I feared they lived their whole life's in the darkest parts of the underground. I crossed my fingers I was wrong.

I heard one scrape past on the opposite side of me as the other was quickly approaching. I stepped forward quietly, and turned placing my back against the other wall. I heard a the scratching noise pass by just where I had be standing seconds earlier. The foots step began to quiet down as they got farther away.

I felt a sense of relief wash over me, only to be filled dread knowing they hadn't left the tube. Surely they had heard me enter the tube, as I hadn't heard them exit. I was stuck in here, with two people I couldn't see. They had weapons and I had, I had my brain. I would trade that for my pepper spray in a flash.

I slipped off my heavy work shoes, and left them on the side of the tube that the person going away from my building had walked. Hoping if for what ever reason it came back this way the individual would be tripped. I cautiously continued walking the direction of my home. Without my shoes it was deathly quiet, I could only hear my own breath.

I felt something brush up against my arm, it was cool and sharp. In an instant, I heard the individual start to turn, I dropped down. I listened as metal connected with the plexie, I brought my elbow up as I stood, it connect with air. I missed.

However the blinding pain in my ribs told me that whoever it was did connect with me, I dropped to the ground. Attempting to remember how to breathe again when I felt a sharp pain hit me in the ribs again.

"Eh, we got us a girl this time!" I heard him yell down the tube. I pushed myself to my feet as I threw a half ass punch in the inky black night, holding my side. Nothing again as it struck out into the air.

Pain exploded across my cheek and I fell to the ground. I guess I can safely say that the violence in the tubes wasn't just a rumor. I could hear the second set of foot prints rapidly approach.

"Ain't she something, you got her good too. Busted her cheek wide open." I felt something touch my stinging cheek. "She'll still fetch for a good price."

Great, it was just as bad as I thought it would be, they were underlings. They were the worst of the worst in the underground network. These people had no morals and would do anything for quick buck. Ruthless killers, if you happen to have a bounty on your head. They are also quite adept at being able to see in little to no light. I had picked the wrong night to take the tubes home.

"Think she's carrying any?" I felt hands on me in an instant searching my pockets first, looking for money. Then one of them got handsy and started to cop a feel. I lashed out kicking, landing it somewhere on one of them.

He howled in pain as his fiend of a friend started laughing. Something scuffled toward me, he landed another blow on the side of head.

"Bitch!"

"Watch out, Roy. She's a feisty one." His friend got out between laughs, an earthy smell filled my senses.

"Boys, I think you best to leave the girl alone." That voice, I knew it. Visions of him sitting on my couch, I knew it was time to make my escape.

"Back off, yulo. This is our paycheck." A remark echoes through the air. I was crawling away when the scuffle broke out behind me as I crawled to my knees. Pain coursed through my side as pulled up.

I pushed myself to my feet and ran the rest of the way through the tube, I found the door just as I heard screams echo from the darkness behind me. I didn't stop running till I was in my apartment, slamming the door behind me once again.

"Julianne, what are the clothes in the bathroom? You had a boy over and..." She came around the corner and saw me. "What happened?"

"I was cornered by underlings in the tube." I winced as Sasha came up to me and touched my cheek. "As for clothes I can totally explain."

"Well, let's clean you up first." She led me to the bathroom, Sasha poured some alcohol on to the towel and pressed to my bleeding cheek. It stung to the high heavens. "I would say sorry but, it's your own fault taking those things at night. You're lucky you got away, very few escape underlings, and you of all people know that. So how did you do it?"

"The watcher, he showed up." I winced, as she bandaged my cheek.

"What?"

"If you would stop, I'll explain." I said pulling away, she crossed her arms waiting. "The man from the outside of the tubes, he was here last night. Those are his clothes, I was going to throw them in the wash but someone would of seen me. So I hand washed them and hung them up to dry. After I was jumped in the tube he showed up again. That's how I got away."

"So your mystery man saved your skin?" She asked, giving me a look that said she wasn't believing me. "How'ed he get in then?"

"I don't know!" I almost yelled. "You can not believe me all you want, but these are his clothes."

I frantically searched my pockets for the vial of dirt to show her. It was gone, I became more panicked at the realization that one of the underlings must have pocketed it thinking it was drugs. If they knew what they had I was in bigger trouble then I was in already.

"Oh no, it's gone. Shit." My voice was high and tense.

"What's gone?"

"The dirt, it was in a small glass bottle, it's soil from outside and they must have taken it." I ran to the door.

"You are not going back out there!" She argued following me. I turned to face her at the door as I was opening it.

"I have to get it back!" I stepped out while still facing my sister and ran right into the watcher. I stumbled back clutching my side as pain seared through it, he caught my arm before I fell back on my butt.

"Are you okay?" Concern in his face.

"Uh, yeah. I think so." I winced, holding the ribs that had been kicked.

"No, you're not. You're hurt." He walked in and closed the door behind himself. Shielding his eyes he walked me to the kitchen. He pointed to the table. "Sit."

I did as I was told, I watched him walk over and turn the lamp on. He flipped the over head light off, my sister stood by the door her jaw gaping open in shock. He came back to me and attempted to lift my shirt up. I fought to push it back down, his face became stern.

"Let me see your ribs." He ordered, something in his voice told me not the argue. I took my shirt off, heat rose to my face.

He placed his large hands on the light blue purple bruise starting to form. I looked at him, he wasn't this close before. His skin was pale, and his face held the scruff of a five-o-clock shadow. Blood was lightly smeared on the his cheek but I didn't see any wound. His hands were also covered in someone else's blood I presumed.

He smelled of earth and the coppery smell of blood, a whirlwind of other scents I didn't recognize. He pressed lightly on the spot, I pulled away as a sharp pain followed. He reached around pulled me back toward him.

"Stop moving." He mumbled, I flushed up as he pressed his hot hand against my side again. Instinctively I pulled away, my face knotted with confusion and pain. He put his hands on the table, looking back up at me from under his brow. "If you don't stop moving I can't fix your rib."

"It hurts when you press on it." I replied softly, making eye contact. They looked golden this evening with ivy flecks streaking through them.

"You have a broken rib, I know it hurts but it will keep hurting if I don't set it." He reached back around, pulling me back towards him.

"How do you know she has a broken rib?" Oh look, Sasha finally found her voice, I thought.

"I can feel it." He placed his hand on my side again. Slowly his hand started to heat up as he applied gentle pressure at first.

"How can you set it? Doctors can't even set them, they just tape you up and send you home." She bulked at him.

"Cause, I'm not a doctor. I'm genetically modified." He replied cooly, his hand became very hot, and the pressure started to hurt immensely. I managed to stay still, not to pulling away this time. "Good girl."

"What are you doing?" My sister asked again, watching in horror as she could see the pain through soar through my face.

"Fixing her rib." I saw him roll his eyes this time.

"Yeah, I got that but how?" He looked up at me again, I could see the annoyance on his face. A sudden wave of pain hit me like brick, knocking the breath from my body. I became light headed, he was quick to reach around and keep me in place.

"It's almost over, kid. Just hold on a bit longer." He murmured, heat spread out in my side as I felt a crawling sensation. "I pushed the bone back into place and  now I'm accelerating the bone growth."

"How can you do that? That's impossible." She admonished, the crawling sensation eased up. My side was warm, and he removed his hands from me.

"All done, kid. Just take easy the next day or two." He told me me softly, and smiled while I took slow deep breaths. I pulled my shirt back on as he turned to face my sister. "What part of genetically modified didn't you hear? I'm not like any of you, I can see, hear, smell, and do things you can't. Example, I can tell you broke five of the small bones in your left foot, probably around the age the seven. It was never set right, it gives you problems after you get off of work because swells and hurts."

"You're right. We were pretending to fly in our bedroom, Sasha jumped off the top bunk and land on a toy house. The doctors said nothing could be done and taped her foot." I replied sliding off the table clutching my tender side. Sasha's eyes widened as she brought her hand to her mouth. "What happened to the underlings?"

"The what?" He asked, turning to me.

"The guys that attacked me."

"They won't be bothering you, or anyone else, any more." His voice was cold and flat. His face was stone, no emotion this golden eyes changed to bronze in an instant as he looked over his should to me. In my gut I knew, being on the wrong side of this man was a very deadly place to be.

"Who are you?" Sasha whispered.

"They called me Reaper." He walked slowly to the door. I rushed past him, not ready for him leave. I wanted to know more, I had to know more. I slammed my body against the door and pain burned through my ribs. "Damn it, kid, I told you to take it easy."

I slid down the door, the pain was unbearable this time. It was hard to catch my breath, Reaper lifted me off the ground. Shaking his head he took me back to the kitchen and laid me on the table. Placing his hand on my side again, he look me in eye the storm in those eyes had vanished and they were golden again.

"You're lucky you didn't break them again. You can only fix someone's bones so many times." His eyes were tired, not like ready to sleep tired. Tired in away when you've seen the world collapse and die, and every one you is know and have care about has left his earth. Where fighting for your life is a daily struggle, I could of been reading to much into it but I could only imagine. "No more slamming yourself into stationary objects, I have to go. The lights are killing my head and the walls are closing in around me. You need to go to sleep."

With that he turned and left, I didn't move from the table. I watched him as he closed the door behind himself. The room was quiet, I slowly sat up and looked around. My sister seemed as confused as I was.

"Well, you finally brought a boy home, I think we should celebrate."

Permanent tag-

@kitkatkl

Not our home tag-

@devilbat t @tarithenurse @radicalesbian @lilmissravingwriter r @no-fuhking-idea

Let me know if you want tagged.

[thatssonanii]

Pieces

A/N: I don't know where I'm going with this but it's been on my mind and I wanted to get it out. I ran out of room on mobile buuut here it is 😧😧😧

Sunday

7:45pm

Marietta, GA

"Pick your head up, sweetheart. Your crown might slip."

"Not today, Mama."

"Well, Mercy, I just want you to hold your head up. What's so wrong with that?"

At 26, Mercy Banks had heard her fair share of sit up straights, stop slouchings and enunciates to last her a lifetime. Her mom wanted her children to be prim and proper at all times, no room for error. She got her way with two of her three children. Mercy not being one of them.

"Let her be, Elise. She just got here."

"Thank you, Daddy," Mercy said kissing her father's cheek.

"That's why she turned out the way she did, Tony. You always baby her and undermine what I say."

Tony waited for his wife to leave their living room before starting a conversation with Mercy. If he couldn't count on his other children he knew he could count on Mercy. She has been a Daddy’s girl her whole life. His oldest, Jamal, loved to he around him but he had been so busy with his career and wife he hadn't been around as much as either of them would have liked. His other daughter, Raven, on the other was exactly like his wife. Raven fell in line growing up and still with everything Elise wanted.

"How's my babygirl?"

Mercy sat across her dad's lap, laying back against him as she did when she was younger. "I'm okay, Daddy. How are you?" She asked softly.

"I'm better since you decided to come tonight. Haven't seen your egg head in two weeks," he joked.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "You know why but I try to call you."

"Are you still going," Tony asked.

She nodded just as the doorbell chimed. Elise came rushing through the living room with a smile on her face. Tony sighed knowing which one of his kids was on the other side of the door since Jamal couldn't be on time to save his life.

"Don't let anything that's said or that happens tonight bother you. Okay?"

Mercy nodded as she watched her mama and Raven walk back into the room. Her husband, Anthony, right behind them. He shook hands with Tony then kissed Mercy's cheek.

"What's up, Mr. Banks. Mercy."

"Not much, youngin," Tony nodded looking to his other daughter, "You not speaking, Rae?"

"Sorry, Daddy. How are you," she asked turning in his direction.

Tony nodded then gestured to Mercy. "Your sister, Rae."

"Hello, Mercy. You look," she paused to look at your younger sister, "Comfortable."

"Thanks, Raven."

"You know your sister, Raven. She likes the bummy look," Elise laughed grasping Raven's hand.

Another doorbell chime brought the last Banks' child, Jamal, and his wife, Melanie. Tony whispered to Mercy to get the door. As she exited the room, Mercy could hear her dad saying something to Raven and her mom.

Jamal and Melanie stood on the other side, wide smiles on their faces. Melanie stepped into the house, pulling Mercy into a tight hug rocking her small body side to side. They had the relationship, Mercy wanted with Raven but she knew it would never happen.

"You look so pretty, CiCi. Look at this hair," Melanie gushed. "You used the hair mask I gave you?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Thank you again."

Jamal opened his arms up to Mercy, smiling harder when he felt Mercy holding on tightly to him. In Mercy's eyes, Jamal could do no wrong. "They started up already?" He asked.

She nodded then turned away from the door to walk them into the living room. Claiming her seat back in her father's lap, trying to tune out the conversation being had.

Thankfully for Mercy, dinner was finally over and she was closer to leaving her childhood home. The spotlight was on Raven and Anthony as they had finally decided to try for children after being married for five years. Of course, Elise snuck questions in at Mercy about her lack of husband, children and a presentable career. All of which were deflected by Melanie, Jamal and Tony.

"I need you to be dressed and presentable on Tuesday by seven, Mercy."

"For what, Mama?"

"Your sister has found you a nice young man that wants to take you on a date. Isn't that exciting," Elise gushed to her less than pleased daughter.

The frown on Mercy's face seemed embedded all evening. Jamal and Tony weren't near to thwart her mom and sister's invasion into her life. They had gone into the den to talk, leaving the women in the living room. Melanie had gone outside to take a call.

"No, it's not and I'm not going."

Raven sucked her teeth much to Elise's dismay. She hated that noise more than she hated to see her children roll their eyes and slouch. Raven pointed her finger in her sister's direction. "Oh, you're going, Mercy and you're gonna have fun. He's cute and he's successful. Don't ruin your chance."

"My chance at what? Being a trophy wife like you, Rae?"

"Now, Mercy, don't be rude to your sister. She's trying to help."

"No, you two are trying to run my life. I don't want to go so I'm not."

The three Banks women stared at each other. Mercy knew ever with all the fighting she was doing thay she would be on that date. It didn't mean she would enjoy it though.

"Are you trying to embarrass me, Mercy? Your sister graduated from college and graduate school, handled her career and was married for three years by the time she was your age," Elise sighed throwing her hands up. "Yes, Jamal was late getting married but look at what he did at your father's company. My God its as if you tuned me out your whole life."

Mercy's face and eyes burned. Even though she had tried to let the things said roll off her back like she was always told to do, it was too much. For protection, Mercy wrapped her arms around herself staring down at her feet.

"I mean yes you graduated and I'm thankful for that but you've done nothing since. No career, no husband and no kids. All my friends ask about my kids because they know that my kids have done extraordinary things," Elise exaggerated loudly. "Two of them have but then there's you, Mercy. There's nothing there but a college degree and paid off medical bills. You came from my womb, I birthed you with everything you needed and yet you still disappoint me this way."

Raven stepped back from their mom, she was uncomfortable with the way Elise spoke but she would never say anything. Making their mom happy was at the top of the list and until Mercy could get on board this would continue to happen.Tears fell from Mercy's eyes, hitting the hardwood floors beneath her.

"Now you're crying," Elise laughed, "I should be the one crying. I'm the one who's embarrassed and disappointed."

Anthony walked into the room unaware of what was going on. He grabbed for Raven's hand, gaining her attention. "You ready to go?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Mama, I'm heading out. I'll call you tomorrow."

Elise nodded, waving her away too focused on Mercy. With one look at Mercy, Raven backed out of the living room with her husband in tow. She didn't bother saying goodbye to her brother or dad for the sake of not wanting to be involved. Melanie passed them on her way back into the house.

"I'm sick of you and this pity party you're constantly throwing, Mercy. It stops today," Elise demanded.

Melanie stepped into the living room, wanting to help. "Everything okay? Sounds like you guys need a breather." Melanie said with a smile

"Everything is fine, Melanie. Just trying to talk sense into my disappointment of a child here."

Mercy didn't bother lifting her head, hugging herself much tighter. The tears flowed freely from her eyes, no need to stop what's been seen already. Elise's tone bothered Melanie, she left the room in search of Jamal and Tony.

"Lift your head up and stop that crying. I'm not going to continue talking to the top of your head."

Mercy lifted her head sucking her bottom lip in, staring directly into her mom's eyes.

"There were go, now I can stare into the eyes of my beautiful baby girl and let her know," Elise paused stepping closer, "That she is going to make me proud from here on out. She's going to stop this crying, stop the pity party, stop dressing like some bum and do what I ask of her. Understand?"

Elise wiped the tears that fell from her daughter's eyes, waiting for an answer.

Tony stood between them, his hands at his wife's shoulders. "We talked about this, Elise. Leave her alone."

Jamal called out to his baby sister, beckoning for her to come to him and his wife. Slowly, Mercy walked to him and into his arms. He held her against him, Melanie stood beside them rubbing Jamal's arm.

"Why? Because she's sensitive? That's rich," Elise scoffed. "She is too old for this, Tony. She needs to grow up, do what is expected of her."

"Just stop, Elise. We'll talk about this later." He said through his teeth.

Elise narrowed her eyes at her husband. "I have to stop or what? She'll do it again?"

"Let's walk your sister to her car, Mal. Come on."

They stood at Mercy's black jeep, none of them said a word. All Jamal could do was hug his sister as she cried softly. Wanting to give them time alone, Melanie went to wait by their car for Jamal.

"You wanna come over? Watch movies or something," Jamal asked as she stepped away from his embrace. "We can watch whatever you wanna watch. Even if it's bullshit." They laughed together. The first smile from Mercy all night.

"Funny but no. I'm gonna go home."

"Go home and do what, CiCi?" Jamal asked with his hands in his pockets.

She rolled her eyes at his question. "Write or edit some pictures, Mal. I don't know."

"Alright but call me if anything comes up."

"Anything like what?" She asked opening her car door.

"You know what. Don't play, Mercy."

With that, Jamal helped her up into the jeep watching her pull out the driveway.

Tuesday

6:50pm

Marietta, GA

As much as Mercy fought, she got dolled up and presentable for whoever Raven had sent to take her out. The only thing Raven told her was that he drives a silver Mercedes because of course that's all that mattered to her. She checked her phone for the time before she stepped out onto the porch of her town home for air while she waited.

Minutes later, a sleek luxury car pulled into her short driveway behind her jeep. She heard his door open and close but she didn't see him until he came from around her jeep. He was too busy picking small pieces of lint from his suit jacket to notice her. He stepped up onto hee porch finally looking up, looking straight into Mercy's eyes and smiled.

"You must be Mercy," he said taking her hand placing a kiss on the top.

"That's me," she nodded pulling her hand from his, "You are?"

"Semaj Brooks but everyone calls me Lucky." She nodded, watching him as he looked at her from head to toe. "You look amazing, Mercy. Your sister didn't do you any justice, I didn't expect this."

She nodded once more. "Yeah, I can imagine what she told you. Are you ready, Semaj?"

He nodded leading her off the porch.

"Please call me Lucky though. I'm Semaj at work, Lucky to everyone else."

Mercy had decided to enjoy herself but she knew this would be last time she saw him. Anyone who knew her sister and was close enough for this to happen wasn't anyone she wanted.

[newyorkroleplay-blog1]

WYATT KAMINSKY –

Birthdate: April 16th, 1986 (32) Gender and Pronouns: Male, he/him Hometown: New York City, New York Neighborhood: Upper East Side, Manhattan Occupation: Senior Attorney at Mercer & Associates Faceclaim: Aaron Tviet  Trigger Warnings: Depression, Drug Use, Overdose

BIOGRAPHY –

It had all started out very simply- Wyatt Kaminsky was born to a mother and a father in the Bronx, NY. They didn’t have much money, but both of his parents earned enough from their meager teaching salaries to land them just above the poverty line. If you had spoken to his neighbors back in the day, they’d tell you that the Kaminsky boy was a smart kid with a slight knack for wandering off. Had you asked his mother of a defining characteristic of her boy? Well, she’d tell you how creative her bright son was, whether he was running through backyards and over fences to get home or taking massive detours through the parks before he reached school. It’s safe to say that Wyatt wasn’t, and has never been a boy who thought logically.

Unfortunately, when Wyatt turned thirteen, his life took a massive turn when his father decided to up and leave him and his mother. It was seemingly the worst thing that could possibly happen to the young and impressionable thirteen-year-old and Wyatt could not cope with the void he felt in his life after his father left. This led him to turn to various mind-altering substances, such as pills, to help forget what it felt like to be sad. As a domino effect, he grew increasingly dependent on the mock effect of normalcy that the drugs provided, and in turn became less motivated by the things he probably should have been caring more about, like schoolwork, grades, and maintaining a social life.

The drugs completely changed who he became and what path he decided to follow in life, and it didn’t take long before Wyatt decided that he didn’t want to go to college, instead choosing to work as a barista in a local coffee shop. He didn’t need a college degree to make money, right? And not having any aspirations or dreams to reach towards, going to university would just be an incredible waste of time and money. Those were his validations for rejecting a life of academia and instead vying for an option that didn’t require a drug test to succeed.

His lack of motivation in life disappointed both of his parents tremendously, including his father who he still kept in touch with. It was even more of a slap in the face when his father continually mocked and chastised Wyatt’ lack of motivation, usually after he bragged about his new life with his new family and perfect children. Though Wyatt was still twenty and living in his mother’s house, he tried his best not to let such things discourage him even though after every phone call, he couldn’t help but feel more than hurt by his father’s rejection.

Perhaps the total opposite, his mother always cared for and nurtured him since he was a little boy, never quite forgetting the child who made her pictures of flying planes and booming rocket ships every day. He would always be her little boy, and in this way she remained in denial about his drug abuse and could never find it within herself to force him to go to rehab, afraid he would resent her for the rest of his life. She was ecstatic however when he finally got a promotion and pay raise at the coffee shop where he worked and had saved up enough to buy his own place. Before he knew it, he was up and out of his mother’s house and on to bigger and better things: his own apartment. However, much to Wyatt own internal chagrin and his mother’s resignation, he didn’t give up his old ways and continuously begged her for money, stating that it was for rent when it was really for drugs. They both knew what he was doing – but again, and like all the times before, she never said, “No.”

Of course, he didn’t know that his life would change yet again in the summer of 2008 when he met a special girl named Elise at the shop. They immediately bonded as she watched him hand-craft her vanilla soy latte and talked about everything under the sun. The two became incredibly close and instantly, Wyatt fell for her. She was beautiful, she was kind, and most of all…she cared. They were together for months before Elise found out about his addiction, and the moment she found the empty bottle and pills that cascaded the drawers of his apartment, the anger and the look on her face said it all; he needed to put an end to this. With her repeated promptings, she convinced him to check into rehab. Six months later, sober and ready to show her the new him, Wyatt was heartbroken to find out that she’d left; packed up all of her things and got out of New York for good, without a word or explanation. His bright star in the night sky, his only true friend, the one person he’d allowed himself to get close too, was gone.

He relapsed, that was no surprise to anyone that had witnessed this strange turn of events. He went back to his old ways, heartbroken and exhausted from life itself. After giving this woman everything he had, after trying to change for her in ways that he wouldn’t even change for his own mother, he still wasn’t lovable. A couple of months later, Wyatt was admitted to the hospital after overdosing at only twenty-two years old, closer to death than he’d ever been before — which Is when Pamela Kaminsky finally put her foot down. Her son needed her, now more than ever, and for the first time she was able to say, “No”.

After another six months in rehab and a couple of more in therapy, Wyatt’s life dramatically began to improve. He decided to go back to university, getting accepted to CUNY City College of New York for pre-law — something he’d always been interested in but never considered a possible career path to him. He’d reconnected with his father who decided to pay for Wyatt’s education, figuring it would keep him off of the drugs and off of the streets. It was as if it all went by in a flash — finishing undergrad studies in three years with honors, getting accepted into New York University law school and graduating with job offers out the wazoo. Everything had somehow fallen into place…

…Until Ashton Cooper decided to fuck it all up. The two of them had met about five years ago when Wyatt was still in law school. It was a stressful time for the then twenty-seven-year-old, feeling as if he was going to crack under the pressure at any moment which prompted him to see a counselor. Sober companion — it was something that he’d heard about from others but never contemplated it for himself much. After deciding to give it a shot, he was matched with Ashton whom he’d become quite familiar with due to her presence in the media. It was odd, befriending someone who was practically famous and yet still gave a shit about him. Her friendship and her support made him feel important, not only because it helped him stay sober, but because due to their close relationship he was also suddenly thrust into the public eye — obviously not as much as she was, but whenever they were out together the magazines tended to take note. Not only this, but now that he was somewhat recognizable, employers took note and he was able to get a job as a junior attorney at Mercer and Associates in the Upper East Side.

All great things must come to an end, however, and that’s exactly what happened six months ago. Wyatt had gotten promoted to senior attorney after two years at the firm and had rushed over to his friend’s place to tell her the great news — and that’s when he caught her in the act. Heartbroken, angry, betrayed, the male completely flipped out on his sober companion, threatening to go public with her abuse and expose her for all the lies she must have been spewing over however long she’d been back on her bullshit. The rest of the argument went by in a blur, however, and before Wyatt knew it, Ashton had influenced him to join her thus ending his ten-year-long stint with sobriety with a small line of cocaine. And then another one. And then another one.

Six more months have passed, and Wyatt feels like he’s about to hit rock bottom. No one except for Ashton knows about his relapse, keeping it from friends and family by distancing himself from anyone who could be able to sniff it out. Work has become more stressful as each day goes by and his social life has definitely started to take a hit. The guilt, the deceit, the pit his stomach — it’s all starting to weigh on him. ¬Therefore, it’s only a matter of time before Wyatt Kaminsky becomes his own worst enemy once again.

PERSONALITY –

( + ) good-humored, easy-going, modest ( - ) dependent, self-destructive, insecure

[orbemnews]

Cheney ousted from leadership post. The other 9 Republicans who voted to impeach Trump have also faced a backlash. The move sends a high-profile message about the Republican Party’s priorities, its ongoing loyalty to the former President and the limited extent to which it is willing to tolerate dissent even after Trump’s election lies incited a deadly attack on the US Capitol. Some of the 10 House Republicans who voted to impeach, most notably Cheney and Rep. Adam Kinzinger of Illinois, have continued to speak out about the “Big Lie” and the future of the Republican Party now that Trump is no longer in office. Others have taken a much lower profile approach since the impeachment vote, not frequently commenting publicly, if at all, on the direction the party is taking in the aftermath of the Trump presidency. Here’s a (non-exhaustive) look at what has happened to the nine other House Republicans since they voted to impeach and the extent to which they have continued to speak out about the deep divisions within the party in the aftermath of January 6: Adam Kinzinger of Illinois Adam Kinzinger has been in the national spotlight often since his impeachment vote as a leading critic of the Republican Party’s embrace of Trump’s “Big Lie” and other conspiracy theories. Kinzinger has spoken out in support of Cheney and criticized the GOP over the push to remove her from leadership. “You cannot unite with lies, if somebody is going to use lies to gain power and say, ‘let’s have unity,’ you can’t do it,” Kinzinger said at an event earlier this week. “‘We need to remove Liz Cheney because she makes me have to answer questions that I know are false.’ That’s what they’re saying.” Kinzinger said at the event that House GOP leader Kevin McCarthy and Whip Steve Scalise “decided that winning the next election was more important than a clear-eyed recognition of what happened on January 6.” “That was a lie that led to violence,” he said. The Illinois Republican recently launched a political action committee as part of an effort he’s calling “Country First” that seeks to counter the GOP’s embrace of conspiracy theories and the former President. The congressman has endorsed the nine other House Republicans who voted to impeach over the Capitol attack as they now face down the potential threat of primary challenges. He also recently endorsed a Texas GOP congressional candidate, Michael Wood, who ran unsuccessfully in a crowded field on a platform calling for Republicans to turn away from Trump and reject conspiracy theories. “I think what’s important is that people see there are people out there that support you, that will back you if you do the right thing,” Kinzinger told CNN of the endorsement. “It’s a long-term battle for the soul of the party.” Kinzinger has been censured by several county GOP organizations in Illinois and drawn a pro-Trump primary challenger, Catalina Lauf, who has said she is running against him, arguing that he “betrayed his constituents” and criticizing his impeachment vote. John Katko of New York John Katko has faced criticism from local GOP leaders in his home state of New York as a result of his impeachment vote. In the run-up to the vote to oust Cheney, Katko said that if there was a vacancy for the leadership post of House GOP conference chair he would support GOP Rep. Elise Stefanik, another New York lawmaker who now appears poised to be elevated to the position. “I have every confidence that Elise will be a superb leader for all of our conference, not just some,” Katko told The Auburn Citizen, though he also called Cheney “a good friend.” The congressman has stood by his impeachment vote, telling CNN in February, “Hell no,” when asked if he had any regrets over the vote to impeach Trump. Fred Upton of Michigan Fred Upton has also faced rebukes from Republicans at the state level following his impeachment vote. Back in his home state of Michigan, the Allegan County Republican Party censured Upton for his vote, saying that he betrayed his “oath of office and core values” of the county party. The Cass County Republican Party also censured the congressman over the impeachment vote. “We believe Congressman Upton’s vote is a betrayal of his oath of office and core values of the Cass County Republican Party,” the resolution said, according to The Detroit News. When he announced he would vote to impeach, Upton said in a statement, “The Congress must hold President Trump to account and send a clear message that our country cannot and will not tolerate any effort by any President to impede the peaceful transfer of power from one President to the next.” Jaime Herrera Beutler of Washington In Jaime Herrera Beutler’s home state of Washington, the state’s Republican Central Committee passed a resolution condemning Trump’s impeachment “without question or exception” and expressing disappointment at Reps. Dan Newhouse, another Washington Republican who voted to impeach, and Herrera Beutler. The congresswoman defended her vote to CNN in February, saying, “When push comes to shove, I’m gonna stand with the Constitution, which is why I actually I’m at peace with it.” Herrera Beutler also said that she’s “not worried” about a potential primary challenger. “There’s a lot of Republicans who disagreed with me on it, and I totally respect that,” Herrera Beutler said at the time. “They don’t expect you to agree with them on everything, but they want to be able to trust you.” One would-be challenger, Joe Kent, describes himself as an “American First Republican” and has taken on the congresswoman specifically over her impeachment vote, saying that she “no longer represents our community’s values.” Dan Newhouse of Washington Despite the pushback he has faced, Dan Newhouse told CNN in February he does not have regrets about his vote. “Can I say that’s a dumb question?” the congressman said when asked if he has any regrets about his vote after getting backlash from Trump supporters. “I do not regret it.” At the end of January, Newhouse rebuffed a call for his resignation from a number of county GOP leaders. “I am not resigning,” Newhouse said, according to the Spokesman-Review. “Many Republicans have agreed with my vote, and many have disagreed. For those who disagree with me on this issue, I hope they will remember my lifelong support for conservative causes and values.” Peter Meijer of Michigan Peter Meijer has spoken out about his concerns over the future of the Republican Party in the wake of January 6. In a recent interview with CNN, Meijer expressed concern that baseless conspiracy theories like QAnon will destroy the GOP from within if Republicans don’t decisively and unequivocally condemn the false and dangerous beliefs and take action to stop their spread. “When we say QAnon, you have the sort of extreme forms, but you also just have this softer, gradual undermining of any shared, collective sense of truth,” Meijer said. The Michigan freshman believes conspiracy theories fuel “incredibly unrealistic and unachievable expectations” and “a cycle of disillusionment and alienation” that could lead conservative voters to sit out elections or, in a worst-case scenario, turn to political violence, like what happened on January 6. Meijer has been censured by GOP county groups in the state, and Tom Norton, the third-place finisher in a 2020 primary won by Meijer in western Michigan, has said he is running again, citing the congressman’s impeachment vote. Anthony Gonzalez of Ohio Anthony Gonzalez defended Cheney for standing up for her beliefs ahead of the vote to remove her. “If a prerequisite for leading our conference is lying to our voters, then Liz is not the best fit,” Gonzalez said. “Liz is going to be honest, straight up and going to stand her own ground.” Trump has already endorsed a primary challenger to Gonzalez, an early sign of the former President’s plans to exert his influence on Republican primaries ahead of the 2022 midterm elections and retaliate against Republicans who have gone against him. “Current Rep. Anthony Gonzalez should not be representing the people of the 16th district because he does not represent their interest or their heart. Max Miller has my Complete and Total Endorsement!” Trump said in a statement in February. Miller announced his campaign for Ohio’s 16th District in February, writing on Twitter, “I’m running for Congress to stand up for Northeast Ohioans. They overwhelmingly voted for the America First agenda. But their Congressman betrayed them when he voted to impeach President Trump.” The Ohio Republican Party Central Committee voted last week to both censure and call for the resignation of Gonzalez. Tom Rice of South Carolina Tom Rice has also faced headwinds in his home state over his impeachment stance. The South Carolina Republican Party voted in January to formally censure Rice, who had not been expected to vote for impeachment but who explained after his vote that the President’s response to the riot led him to cross the aisle. When reached by CNN on Tuesday ahead of the vote to remove Cheney from leadership, Rice said, “I think I’ve commented enough for a while.” Rice told CNN in February he stood by his vote to impeach. “In eight years in Congress, I probably had a hundred votes that I could have gone either way, and I maybe second-guessed a little bit,” he said. “This is not one of them.” David Valadao of California David Valadao of California has also had to grapple with the potential threat of a primary challenge. The “issues” page on a website launched by former Fresno City Councilman Chris Mathys, who has said he’ll take on Valadao, includes just three sentences, all targeting the congressman’s impeachment vote. “President Trump has fought on our behalf to protect our conservative, republican values,” the website states. “It is unbelievable that Congressman David Valadao would vote for the impeachment of President Donald Trump. I will do everything to restore our conservative values and make sure America never becomes a socialist country.” CNN’s Alex Rogers, Kristin Wilson, Manu Raju, Eric Bradner, Dan Merica and Caroline Kelly contributed to this report. Source link Orbem News #backlash #Cheney #Cheneyoustedfromleadershippost.Theother9RepublicanswhovotedtoimpeachTrumphavealsofacedabacklash.-CNNPolitics #Faced #impeach #Leadership #Ousted #Politics #post #Republicans #Trump #voted

[dipulb3]

Cheney ousted from leadership post. The other 9 Republicans who voted to impeach Trump have also faced a backlash.

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/cheney-ousted-from-leadership-post-the-other-9-republicans-who-voted-to-impeach-trump-have-also-faced-a-backlash/

Cheney ousted from leadership post. The other 9 Republicans who voted to impeach Trump have also faced a backlash.

The move sends a high-profile message about the Republican Party’s priorities, its ongoing loyalty to the former President and the limited extent to which it is willing to tolerate dissent even after Trump’s election lies incited a deadly attack on the US Capitol.

Some of the 10 House Republicans who voted to impeach, most notably Cheney and Rep. Adam Kinzinger of Illinois, have continued to speak out about the “Big Lie” and the future of the Republican Party now that Trump is no longer in office. Others have taken a much lower profile approach since the impeachment vote, not frequently commenting publicly, if at all, on the direction the party is taking in the aftermath of the Trump presidency.

Here’s a (non-exhaustive) look at what has happened to the nine other House Republicans since they voted to impeach and the extent to which they have continued to speak out about the deep divisions within the party in the aftermath of January 6:

Adam Kinzinger of Illinois

Adam Kinzinger has been in the national spotlight often since his impeachment vote as a leading critic of the Republican Party’s embrace of Trump’s “Big Lie” and other conspiracy theories. Kinzinger has spoken out in support of Cheney and criticized the GOP over the push to remove her from leadership.

“You cannot unite with lies, if somebody is going to use lies to gain power and say, ‘let’s have unity,’ you can’t do it,” Kinzinger said at an event earlier this week. “‘We need to remove Liz Cheney because she makes me have to answer questions that I know are false.’ That’s what they’re saying.”

Kinzinger said at the event that House GOP leader Kevin McCarthy and Whip Steve Scalise “decided that winning the next election was more important than a clear-eyed recognition of what happened on January 6.”

“That was a lie that led to violence,” he said.

The Illinois Republican recently launched a political action committee as part of an effort he’s calling “Country First” that seeks to counter the GOP’s embrace of conspiracy theories and the former President. The congressman has endorsed the nine other House Republicans who voted to impeach over the Capitol attack as they now face down the potential threat of primary challenges.

He also recently endorsed a Texas GOP congressional candidate, Michael Wood, who ran unsuccessfully in a crowded field on a platform calling for Republicans to turn away from Trump and reject conspiracy theories.

“I think what’s important is that people see there are people out there that support you, that will back you if you do the right thing,” Kinzinger told Appradab of the endorsement. “It’s a long-term battle for the soul of the party.”

Kinzinger has been censured by several county GOP organizations in Illinois and drawn a pro-Trump primary challenger, Catalina Lauf, who has said she is running against him, arguing that he “betrayed his constituents” and criticizing his impeachment vote.

John Katko of New York

John Katko has faced criticism from local GOP leaders in his home state of New York as a result of his impeachment vote.

In the run-up to the vote to oust Cheney, Katko said that if there was a vacancy for the leadership post of House GOP conference chair he would support GOP Rep. Elise Stefanik, another New York lawmaker who now appears poised to be elevated to the position.

“I have every confidence that Elise will be a superb leader for all of our conference, not just some,” Katko told The Auburn Citizen, though he also called Cheney “a good friend.”

The congressman has stood by his impeachment vote, telling Appradab in February, “Hell no,” when asked if he had any regrets over the vote to impeach Trump.

Fred Upton of Michigan

Fred Upton has also faced rebukes from Republicans at the state level following his impeachment vote.

Back in his home state of Michigan, the Allegan County Republican Party censured Upton for his vote, saying that he betrayed his “oath of office and core values” of the county party.

The Cass County Republican Party also censured the congressman over the impeachment vote.

“We believe Congressman Upton’s vote is a betrayal of his oath of office and core values of the Cass County Republican Party,” the resolution said, according to The Detroit News.

When he announced he would vote to impeach, Upton said in a statement, “The Congress must hold President Trump to account and send a clear message that our country cannot and will not tolerate any effort by any President to impede the peaceful transfer of power from one President to the next.”

Jaime Herrera Beutler of Washington

In Jaime Herrera Beutler’s home state of Washington, the state’s Republican Central Committee passed a resolution condemning Trump’s impeachment “without question or exception” and expressing disappointment at Reps. Dan Newhouse, another Washington Republican who voted to impeach, and Herrera Beutler.

The congresswoman defended her vote to Appradab in February, saying, “When push comes to shove, I’m gonna stand with the Constitution, which is why I actually I’m at peace with it.”

Herrera Beutler also said that she’s “not worried” about a potential primary challenger.

“There’s a lot of Republicans who disagreed with me on it, and I totally respect that,” Herrera Beutler said at the time. “They don’t expect you to agree with them on everything, but they want to be able to trust you.”

One would-be challenger, Joe Kent, describes himself as an “American First Republican” and has taken on the congresswoman specifically over her impeachment vote, saying that she “no longer represents our community’s values.”

Dan Newhouse of Washington

Despite the pushback he has faced, Dan Newhouse told Appradab in February he does not have regrets about his vote.

“Can I say that’s a dumb question?” the congressman said when asked if he has any regrets about his vote after getting backlash from Trump supporters. “I do not regret it.”

At the end of January, Newhouse rebuffed a call for his resignation from a number of county GOP leaders.

“I am not resigning,” Newhouse said, according to the Spokesman-Review. “Many Republicans have agreed with my vote, and many have disagreed. For those who disagree with me on this issue, I hope they will remember my lifelong support for conservative causes and values.”

Peter Meijer of Michigan

Peter Meijer has spoken out about his concerns over the future of the Republican Party in the wake of January 6.

In a recent interview with Appradab, Meijer expressed concern that baseless conspiracy theories like QAnon will destroy the GOP from within if Republicans don’t decisively and unequivocally condemn the false and dangerous beliefs and take action to stop their spread.

“When we say QAnon, you have the sort of extreme forms, but you also just have this softer, gradual undermining of any shared, collective sense of truth,” Meijer said. The Michigan freshman believes conspiracy theories fuel “incredibly unrealistic and unachievable expectations” and “a cycle of disillusionment and alienation” that could lead conservative voters to sit out elections or, in a worst-case scenario, turn to political violence, like what happened on January 6.

Meijer has been censured by GOP county groups in the state, and Tom Norton, the third-place finisher in a 2020 primary won by Meijer in western Michigan, has said he is running again, citing the congressman’s impeachment vote.

Anthony Gonzalez of Ohio

Anthony Gonzalez defended Cheney for standing up for her beliefs ahead of the vote to remove her.

“If a prerequisite for leading our conference is lying to our voters, then Liz is not the best fit,” Gonzalez said. “Liz is going to be honest, straight up and going to stand her own ground.”

Trump has already endorsed a primary challenger to Gonzalez, an early sign of the former President’s plans to exert his influence on Republican primaries ahead of the 2022 midterm elections and retaliate against Republicans who have gone against him.

“Current Rep. Anthony Gonzalez should not be representing the people of the 16th district because he does not represent their interest or their heart. Max Miller has my Complete and Total Endorsement!” Trump said in a statement in February.

Miller announced his campaign for Ohio’s 16th District in February, writing on Twitter, “I’m running for Congress to stand up for Northeast Ohioans. They overwhelmingly voted for the America First agenda. But their Congressman betrayed them when he voted to impeach President Trump.”

The Ohio Republican Party Central Committee voted last week to both censure and call for the resignation of Gonzalez.

Tom Rice of South Carolina

Tom Rice has also faced headwinds in his home state over his impeachment stance.

The South Carolina Republican Party voted in January to formally censure Rice, who had not been expected to vote for impeachment but who explained after his vote that the President’s response to the riot led him to cross the aisle.

When reached by Appradab on Tuesday ahead of the vote to remove Cheney from leadership, Rice said, “I think I’ve commented enough for a while.”

Rice told Appradab in February he stood by his vote to impeach. “In eight years in Congress, I probably had a hundred votes that I could have gone either way, and I maybe second-guessed a little bit,” he said. “This is not one of them.”

David Valadao of California

David Valadao of California has also had to grapple with the potential threat of a primary challenge.

The “issues” page on a website launched by former Fresno City Councilman Chris Mathys, who has said he’ll take on Valadao, includes just three sentences, all targeting the congressman’s impeachment vote.

“President Trump has fought on our behalf to protect our conservative, republican values,” the website states. “It is unbelievable that Congressman David Valadao would vote for the impeachment of President Donald Trump. I will do everything to restore our conservative values and make sure America never becomes a socialist country.”

Appradab’s Alex Rogers, Kristin Wilson, Manu Raju, Eric Bradner, Dan Merica and Caroline Kelly contributed to this report.

[necrowriter]

the eight swans, part two (what happened after)

(Part One)

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Over time Bran began to to learn to do things one-handed. Occasionally the wing was a help, as a counterbalance or something to brace against; far more often it was a hindrance. It got in the way, poked out in all the wrong places, and seemed to cramp or twinge no matter what position he tried. It took him weeks to find a halfway comfortable position to sleep in.

When he needed help, he went to one of his siblings, if he could, the same as Elise did when she struggled with little things that her hands would not co-operate with. They could have gone to anyone in the house; almost all of the household would have fallen over themselves to help, and often did whether or not help was actually needed. Among the family there was no production, no fuss, just quiet, sure hands doing up buttons or opening a latch. They were used to helping each other anyway.

The morning they went to visit their father, Conall and Jack helped Bran into a waistcoat and a coat that Marhaus had had quickly tailored specially for him, and Conall did up his tie, muttering a little as he stumbled over a skill that had gone quite rusty over the past seven years. On the other side of the room Nathaniel and Lucas fastened Elise's shoes, put up her hair, and helped her button her coat.

It had taken some time to find out--as much as they ever could find out--what had happened to their father. Lord Marhaus employed some men to go find out what they could, and soon enough they came back with the ill news. They had known that he was gone, but they did not know when, or why, or where he was now laid in rest, and if they had hoped that something would be eased in them when the scant information was delivered, they were doomed to be disappointed.

He was four years dead, of grief and drink turned into a long and cruel illness. They gathered around his plot and said nothing for a long time. They had been scared as they waited, especially the younger ones, scared of what they might find, scared of what he would think of them. And they had been angry, especially the older ones, the anger of seven bitter years of blame and confusion and loss. Why had he done what he did? Why had he abandoned them so easily?

But they had still wanted to see him again.

There were nettles growing in the graveyard, prickly, burning things running rife here in the pauper's yard where no one bothered to tend the ground. Elise reached forward and pulled one from the ground. Its sting meant barely anything to her scarred hands.

Rain began to fall, cold and sparse, and Bran reached out and drew Elise under his wing as she sobbed, completely silent, as she had learned to be a long time ago. The others drew near around them, their long coats flapping like wings, and together they walked back to the train station.

The word became lodged in Bran's head early on, like something caught in his throat and blocking his breath. Amputation. He kept returning to it, prodding at it to feel the itch as he might a loose tooth, and it did itch. Bound up in that uncomfortable, ill-fitting, aching-itching word was the question which everyone who met him seemed compelled to ask.

Why not just cut it off?

Not an unreasonable question. So not unreasonable that Lord Marhaus called for a surgeon the very day after the hanging--the very best that could be found, he assured them all with a smile--without consulting anyone at all on the matter, least of all Bran. But then, Lord Marhaus was used to knowing best.

Lord Marhaus was used to being obeyed because he was always obeyed, but Conall, twenty-three and scraggly-bearded but tall and strong and loud, was used to being obeyed because he was used to making the hard decisions, and consequently there was a tremendous row when he found out. “You had no right,” he said, drawing himself up like an angry cobb about to strike. “It's his choice what he wants to do with it, and no one else's.”

Lord Marhaus spluttered. “But he cannot simply go about with a bloody great wing sticking out of his shoulder-”

“Why not?” Conall said, in a tone like a door being shut. “We have all gone about with bloody great wings for seven years, and no one has seemed too bothered by it.”

In the end the surgeon came around anyway, because no one had told him not to, but it was firmly agreed that he would conduct an examination and nothing more.  Dr. Boyd came very highly recommended by London society as being respectable, skilled, and unflappable in the face of strange cases, although whether he was the best that could be found was never strictly determined.

Bran sat on a stool in the parlor, bare-chested and shivering as a ring of family members watched him be examined. Winter had come in hard, and even with a good fire going at the end of the room the air was prickling cold against his skin. He reached out his hand and felt Elise's scarred skin against his own as she took it, ever so gently.

Boyd was a wiry man with narrow eyes behind narrow spectacles, and muttonchops so thick that his head seemed framed in a gray lion's mane. Everything about him was stern and forbidding, from the narrow-eyed glare to the sharp bark of a voice, which made the delicate gentleness of his hands all the more surprising. He muttered and tutted to himself as he felt the bones of the wing, and the joint where bird met boy. It was not a clean seam but a slow shift with a patch in-between that was neither one thing nor the other, where small half-formed feathers poked from open skin. The surgeon paused to feel one of them through two fingers.

“Does that not itch?” he asked.

It took Bran a moment to realize the question was more conversational than clinical. “Only when I look at it,” he replied. “It seems like it should, but it doesn't really, as long as I don't think about it.”

“Well, pardon me for bringing it up then,” Boyd muttered, and Bran had to smile a little.

It seemed an age before Boyd finished, although in fact it had taken much less time than anyone had expected. Bran gratefully wrapped himself back into a blanket. Shirts had lately become quite an obstacle for him. Soon enough Marhaus would have some modified for him, but Bran found that even those tended to be rather uncomfortable, and he wore them as little as he politely could.

“Well?” Marhaus demanded.

“Well what?” Boyd said.

Marhaus harumphed. “Well, what do you think?”

Boyd glanced at Bran with pursed lips. “That's definitely a wing alright.”

Bran decided he rather liked Dr. Boyd.

“Could you remove it?” Marhaus asked.

Dr. Boyd made a face. “To be honest, I'm not really sure. It would be rather more complicated than a regular amputation, which is of course risky enough. It's not simply a wing pinned on to a normal shoulder, you see. The joint there is not quite like anything I've seen. It seems to be halfway between bird and human. I wouldn't be able to pinpoint the spot where one ended and the other began, and even if I could, navigating the bone and muscle there would be quite a challenge. I might do more harm than good.”

Marhaus frowned at this unexpected complexity. “You can't just...cut the whole thing off?” he asked hopefully.

Boyd gave him a withering look. “The 'whole thing' comprises almost the entirety of the young man's shoulder. I doubt he'd survive an operation of that scale and if he did, the resulting hole in his torso would hardly be good for him. The best method would leave the shoulder portion intact, but with the complexity of the bones there even that could do damage at the base which would be exceedingly difficult to repair considering that absolutely no one has any experience doing so.” He shrugged. “I'm not saying it's completely impossible, but it's certainly not a task that can taken lightly.”

Marhaus did not quite know what to say to that, so Dr. Boyd packed up his bag and told them to call him if there were any developments. “For now, though, I think it best to leave it be,” he said.

For a long while afterward Bran had nightmares of saws and worse things, when he did not dream that he was too late to save his sister from the noose. Eventually he stopped dreaming of saws, though not of hangings, and the question resurfaced. Perhaps, Marhaus thought hopefully, they could cut only part of it off, enough that Bran could easily hide the rest with a bit of plucking.

“I don't understand the fuss,” Lord Marhaus said to Conall. “Plenty of young men going about short a limb or two these days. He'd fit right in.”

He didn't understand when Conall laughed long and harsh at that.

Bran, at just seventeen, knew better than to think he or his siblings would ever fit in anywhere again, but in any case that was not his greatest concern. He thought about it more practically; certainly life would be more convenient with a mere stump instead of an alien limb. Would it be worth the saw, to sleep easier at night, to fit into his shirts, to not be looked at with shock and confusion by everyone but his siblings?

He thought about it a great deal. He thought about it when Marhaus said he would fit right in and shook his head slowly.

“People would think I was a soldier, then,” he said. “I'm not. I never was.”

Marhaus only frowned in confusion.

“People know what I am now, when they look at me,” Bran said, still slow, finding his way word by word. “At least, as much as they can. As much as I do.”

Marhaus tried, but there were many things he did not understand. In particular he did not understand why the eight were so hesitant at his offer to give them back their father's house, even when the witchfinders had confirmed there was no magic left, no curse lingering over it or the brackish brambled land the witch had left behind. That land, the land that their father had so coveted and his children had paid so high a price for, was in the end little more than a tangle of woods and a rolling field of heather and wildflowers. He had wanted it because it was strategically placed, and she had wanted it because it was hers; now it was theirs and they were not sure they wanted it at all, but someone had to make a choice about it.

Conall, investigating their father's accounts, found that he had never sold the land, even when he had nothing else left. His business had fallen to shambles and all his money withered away, but he had managed to hold on to those few bleak acres for which he had lost his children.

They had been society, once, but they had lost that; Conall and Jack kept a few scraps of memory of etiquette and propriety, but mostly what they knew was hand-to-mouth practicality and relying on no one but themselves. They muttered and nodded and tried to smile politely when Marhaus showed them off at dinner parties or to reporters, but they all hated it. Life with Lord Marhaus was unimaginable luxury compared to what they had known before, but the price they paid for it was more attention than they could stand. Bran and Elise got the worst of it, having to stand politely in the face of open gaping and bombardments of questions.

There was no question that they had to leave, but they were not sure where to go.

The land meant something to them, although they were not sure what. The house didn't. They tried, tried to live in halls they had once known like family, tried to fill up the empty echoing space with themselves, but they could not. Those days were too far gone. And there was no question among them of building a house on the witch's land, even if they had wanted to remain there; but neither could they quite bear to leave it behind entirely.

On a gray quiet day some six months after the gallows, the eight of them stood at the top of the hill that the heather field crested up to, looking down. They all looked out over the fields, wild thick grass speckled with the bright spots of flowers. The trees were in full green leaf and whispered together in the breeze.

“It's a beautiful bit of land, in its way,” Jack said, almost wistfully.

“But is it ours to take?” John said.

“No. But then, neither is it anyone else's,” Conall said. “And if we do not use it, someone else will, and who knows for what. Most likely they would clear it out and put a road through it as Father intended to do.”

Even John looked askance at that. They all still had some wildness in them from seven years in the sky, and a preference for land to be left free and open.

And there was something in them, a sense that this land in particular should be left alone. As memorial, perhaps, but a memorial to what?

Conall spoke to a long time to Marhaus about it—about memorials, and matters of money that Conall knew he didn't understand, and about the importance of keeping promises, which he very much did. Marhaus, for once, listened. A swan's wing, they say, could break a man's arm, but Marhaus's concern was more with those dark glaring eyes.

Marhaus was not a cruel man, as such. He was, in his way, kind, or at least he did what he thought were kind things. Marhaus was used to knowing best. When he called in the surgeon, he knew best. When he showed them off to society, he knew best. When he found Elise in the woods and brought her back to live among civilized people despite her silent, desperate protests, he knew best.

The only time he did not know best was when they took her to the gallows. He had looked back at her over and over, watching her fingers bleed as she worked furiously to finish the last shirt. He did not, deep down, believe what they said about her, but for the first time in his life, Marhaus had had no choice in the matter.

He had taken in Elise and treated her very well, as well as he could, and he took them all in after the hanging, welcoming seven confused young men into his household, but still they could not, quite, forgive him. If he had not interfered, things might have been different.  

But one thing they knew was that Marhaus, when he knew best, was implacable, and so when he agreed whole-heartedly to Conall's suggestion they all breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that he would make their idea unstoppable.

With his help they sold their father's house, and the land it stood on, and with it they bought another: smaller, much smaller, and far from the city, but with it came land, wild and free and unconstrained by any curse. Marhaus never truly understood why they would do such a thing, but when they spoke about it among themselves, wondering what to do, Bran had said, “I need someplace where I can learn to be myself again,” and nothing more had been needed.

This house was not meant for eight young people, not by far, but they had lived in a charcoal burner's hut for seven years and had no complaints. They slept two or three to a room and jostled past each other in the kitchen, laughing, in the mornings. There was plenty of space outside, if they wanted. They cleared the weeds and trimmed the grass in the yard, but otherwise let the land do what it would.

Jack, strong and quiet and gentle, did well as a hand on a nearby farm; he had a way with the animals that amazed the farmer, making friends with the most ornery bull on the property his very first day. Conall did odd jobs for a while before managing to land a steady position at a large local store. Christopher, Nathaniel, Lucas and John were old enough to work if they wanted, but they were still skittish and uncertain of the human world.

“Stay here for a while and enjoy some peace for once in your lives,” Conall told them when he and Jack first went out. “We'll make do.”

Of Bran and Elise working there was no question, at least not yet.

Jack brought home day-old newspapers when he could get them and read them out loud in the evenings when they were all gathered around the small fireplace. Conall rescued some old and extremely battered books from a bookseller who would have thrown them away, and they became the treasures of the house, gently used and lovingly cared for. It was a motley collection, comprising a couple of novels, a child's primer, and a very old Bible. John read the Bible meticulously from end to end, thought very hard about it, and composed a list of questions he had. Bran gravitated toward the novels and read them out loud to Elise for practice, slowly at first, word by word, his surety growing with every chapter.

When Christopher was not teaching them, they set up a kitchen garden beside the house, growing whatever seeds they could get and tending them carefully. John, who could not see far off but had a keen eye for close details, went foraging in the woods for mushrooms, nuts, free-growing herbs and anything else wild that might aid a meal. Lucas and Nathaniel went out and set snares for rabbits, and occasionally brought down a deer with the ancient hunting rifle Conall had managed to acquire. They went about it with grim, quiet necessity, always granting as quick a death as possible and never killing anything they would not eat, and no matter how lean the rations ran, they never shot birds. None of them would eat fowl of any kind for the rest of their days.

When Jack first came home with the knees of his trousers worn straight through, Nathaniel went to Elise. “Can you teach me how to sew?” he said. “Someone will have to be doing it around here and I reckon you've done more than enough for a lifetime.”

Elise taught him what she could, and he worked out the rest himself, bit by bit, sitting hunched with a needle by the fire while Jack read the newspaper. The patches on Jack's clothes were ragged at first but quickly improved. Mrs. Kellnick, the farmer's wife, raised an eyebrow at Jack and gave her compliments to the girl that did his mending.

When Jack gravely replied, “Actually, it's my younger brother, ma'am,” she blinked at him and then laughed out loud.

“Well, isn't that something,” she said. She looked at him carefully for a moment and then said, “Why don't you bring him around sometime? I've got more sewing to do round here than anyone could keep up with. I can't pay him much, but he could pick up some pocket money.”

“I don't mind,” Nathaniel said when Jack brought it up that night: so now they had three jobs. It did not, true enough, bring in much more than pocket money, but it was no less appreciated for it. Nor did the job pay only in money; despite her declarations that now she could finally hand the sewing off to someone else and spend her time elsewhere, the farmer's wife tended to linger and check in on Nathaniel often, correcting his techniques and teaching him new things, with the result that his sewing improved rapidly.

She also tutted disapprovingly at his bare frame and found excuses to give him food: “Test this soup for me, would you?” “Here, I've made more of this bread than I meant to, someone may as well eat it.” “I can't fit anymore of this pudding into the icebox, why don't you finish it off for me.” Or, sometimes, just: “How about a scone? You've been working hard.”

Nathaniel smiled and thanked her and tucked what he could away into a pocket to share with the others later. They were, in many ways, still a flock.

At home, Lucas would nibble at his share and ask questions of Nathaniel to relate back to the farmer's wife: how long did she cook this? What was in the sauce? Long ago Lucas had learned by trial and error the barest necessities of how to clean and cook the deer and rabbits Conall and Jack managed to bring down by moonlight. Then they had not been concerned with anything beyond not starving for one more day, but now, with a tiny kitchen and a little garden and dented dishes handed down from Lord Marhaus's cabinets, Lucas began to concern himself with making their small meals taste better and last longer.

Eventually, when Nathaniel had asked enough questions to fill half a cookbook, the farmer's wife rolled her eyes and exclaimed, “Lord have mercy! Why don't you just bring the boy over here and he can ask me himself?”

It was hardly surprising to find struggling families or underfed young men, then, in the wake of the war, so she passed no particular comment when Jack arrived the next day with another boy just as hollow-faced as the first. She showed him around the kitchen, answering his questions, of which there were many, and then put him to work canning blackberries. But at the end of the day, when Jack came in muddied and tired to take them home, she asked him, “How many of you are there, anyhow?”

“Eight, all told, ma'am,” he said.

“Hmm,” she said. “And your parents?”

Lucas and Nathaniel glanced at each other, but Jack only shrugged and said, “Gone, ma'am.”

“I see.” She looked at them a moment longer and then said, “Wait here a moment.”

She left and came back with a large jar of cherries, canned that spring, which she gave to Lucas. “You did good work today,” she said. “Come back if you want.”

Lucas hugged the jar to his chest like it was made of gold. “Thank you, ma'am.”

She watched the three of them troop off and shook her head. Enough struggling families, enough young men going about those days short a limb or two: no one asked questions.

When there were five jars of preserves paid for a day's work on the kitchen shelf in the little house, Conall came home and remarked, “I hear the pastor is looking for someone to help him keep up the church. Sweep and all that. He's getting old, having a hard time.”

There was silence for a moment. Everyone looked at each other. Then everyone looked at John.

“You don't have to go if you don't want to,” Conall said. “But if you're interested-”

“No, I think he does have to go,” Lucas said, a smile playing over his face. “Because if I hear one more sermon about how Genesis doesn't make sense-”

“Alright, alright,” John huffed, but there was a gleam in his eye.

The next day Conall took John to town with him and introduced him to Father Hale. John was small and as skinny as the rest of them and tended to squint, but Conall could sell ice to a polar bear and before long the pastor agreed to take John on, at least for the day.

John swept, and dusted down the pews, and weeded the little garden out back. When he made tea for the pastor, whose hands tended to shake on the kettle and spill the water, the old man smiled at him and told him to make a cup for himself as well.

John held the chipped cup close to him and said, “Father, may I ask you something about Genesis...”

When Conall came back that evening, he asked, “Well, Father? Will he do?”

“Oh, yes!” Father Hale chortled happily. “I haven't had that good of an argument in years!”

Conall looked sideways at John, who shrugged a little sheepishly.

The pastor could not pay much, but it added to Nathaniel's pocket money and Lucas's payments of food. He and John argued happily over scripture all day. “How is it I've never seen you at service?” Father Hale asked before too long; he might not see well anymore, but he was a shrewd man and knew who came to church and who didn't.

John shrugged and mumbled something about being needed at home. The pastor let it go at that, disinclined to chase off good help when he had it. And John was good help. He would argue religion all day but he never argued about anything else; when asked to do something he did it and did it well.

The only time he hesitated was when, after about a week, Father Hale asked him to weed the churchyard.

“I'm afraid it's gotten a bit overgrown in the corners,” he said apologetically. “Oh, and do take the heavy gloves; there are nettles and things growing out there.”

John stopped, and gave him a look that had the pastor crossing over and putting a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder without being entirely sure why. “What's the matter, lad?” he asked gently. “Not scared, are you?”

“No...no, Father,” John said quietly. “I'm fine. Thank you. I'll be sure to take the gloves.”

John weeded out the churchyard in good time, but the pastor, looking out the window, did not miss the way he tended to stop and look at the nettles when he found them, as if he expected something of them. When John came back in Father Hale had the kettle on and a plate of slightly stale biscuits out. “Sit and have a few, why don't you,” he said, and when both of them were sitting at the table with a cup of tea he started a debate that lasted for an hour and a half, until that look on John's face had faded entirely.

The house was growing more and more quiet during the day, with Lucas gone more often than not and only three of them left most days. There was a general feeling, never spoken but clearly felt by all of them, that someone needed to stay home to look after Bran and Elise.

They were not helpless: Bran had by that time become fairly adept at managing with one hand, and Elise at managing with two hands that did not work very well, and if there was anything one of them couldn't do they would take it on together. But they were still the youngest and the smallest and they all remembered too well what had happened when one of their number had been left behind.

Conall had not yet forgiven himself for letting Marhaus take Elise away, no matter how many times they told him there was nothing he could have done. “They would have shot you,” Elise whispered to him when he made his apologies in the midst of a long, bad night. “They nearly shot Christopher. They would have killed all of you, if you had been there.”

At any rate, no matter Conall's derisive comments about fitting in, no matter how much they all knew they did not and never would, they were not ready to reveal what they had been through to anyone else. Six of them could hide it: no matter that they had dreams of flying, or nettle scars running white under their shirts, no matter that John balked to pick nettles or that Lucas had to excuse himself to the outhouse and throw up when the farmer's wife cooked a goose, no matter all that they had been through, they looked normal, and were treated, more or less, like anyone else.

It was an intoxicating experience after seven years of lonesome wilderness, but they were also practically concerned: no one knew if they would be treated as well, still be able to keep their jobs, and be left alone to live their lives, if the story got out. After all they had once been cursed as demon-spawn, and worse, shown off to society. And the youngest two, whose scars showed more clearly on the outside, could not venture out without breaking their careful silence. They might be able to conjure up a story to explain Elise's scarred hands, but it would raise questions, and there was of course only one story that could explain Bran.

So Christopher stayed at home to keep up the front if anyone came around, and the other two stayed with him, waiting for their brothers to come home and tell them stories of the outside world. They kept up the cottage, worked in the garden, or explored their little property. Jack spoke sometimes of trying to turn it into a farm of their own, but that was a long way off if it ever happened.

Bran read through the novels and the leftover newspapers over and over. He gathered firewood and stacked it near the cottage, weeded the garden, did whatever he could to help. The others were working, bringing in money or food bit by bit, all save Christopher, and the only reason he remained behind by now was to look after them. Elise did not work now but, they all agreed without ever having to say it, had done enough for a lifetime. “It's our turn to look after you,” Jack told her when she had spoken one evening of feeling useless. “Don't you dare say you're useless. You're the only reason we're here at all.”

Bran, sitting quiet in the corner with his wing folded over his knees, did not say that he too felt useless and spare, as useless and spare as his own wing, and had nothing to show for it, had become that way not by performing any heroic deeds but by sheer circumstance. He knew they would tell him otherwise, and that it would do nothing to help. He turned his face to the fire and said nothing.

In the end, of course, it came out; later they would have to admit that it was surprising that they managed to keep their secret for as long as they did. The story had been quite public, after all, and had briefly been a topic of interest all over the country, being the sort of tragic yet inspiring tale the nation ate up in the days after the war. Perseverance and grit leading to a triumph over adversity, a plucky young heroine, tortured young men: it had it all. But being a tale that was already over and done with by the time anyone found out about it, there was not much to sustain interest, and as it faded away people did not, generally, remember such details as the names of the siblings. No more did they generally remember details such as the number of siblings that were living back in that old cottage, since no one had yet seen more than three of them together.

But someone figured it out. They never found out who; it may have been multiple people simultaneously. Someone ran across an old newspaper article, or read a reprint of the story in the current news, and realized they knew the names. Someone heard the story from a relative, visiting from the city, who had been there to see the hanging, and realized they knew the faces that were being described. Someone perhaps had no other impetus than a vague recollection of something they had heard that happened to combine at the right moment with something they were thinking about just then, and came to the realization all on their own.

Wherever it started it from, it seemed to suddenly be coming from everywhere at once. Suddenly the whispers were in the store where Conall worked and in the church on Sunday morning and circling around the farm. They got barely any warning, had all of one evening between the first stirrings of gossip and the full outbreak, and in that evening they huddled round the fire and discussed what to do.

“We could leave,” Christopher said, though he didn't sound very happy about it, and no one else was either. They had been working so hard, making progress bit by bit, and how could they throw all that away? Besides, they had come to be quite fond of their little cottage and its garden, of the woods and fields that they had, very slowly, begun to feel safe in.

“We could,” Conall said, slowly and ponderously. “But I don't know where we could go that it wouldn't catch up with us again in time. Not unless we left the country, maybe. Damn Marhaus anyway! Why did this all have to be so public?”

They spared a moment to think disparagingly of Lord Marhaus, but the matter at hand quickly distracted them.

“Do you think they'll hurt us?” Elise asked.

“Over my dead body,” Conall snapped back at once; but then he sighed. “I really don't know what they'll do,” he admitted. “It may be that all we can do is wait and find out.”

Bran did not go out the next day, not even to weed the garden. He sat by the wall, turning the pages of one of their books over and over without seeing them. It was almost a year now, since the hanging, since Elise had freed them, and he still felt trapped in a body not quite his own.

Mr. Kellnick gave Jack an odd look when he came to work the next morning, but said nothing. Lucas and Nathaniel had remained behind that day, making the house almost as crowded as it had been in their first days. But Mrs. Kellnick pulled Jack aside while he was putting on his coat for the walk home.

“Yes ma'am?” he said, betraying no emotion. Jack could have a face like stone when he wanted to.

“Is it true what they're saying?” Mrs. Kellnick asked, never being one to beat around the bush.

“What are they saying, ma'am?” Jack said, his hands still clutching the scarf he had been wrapping around his neck.

“Lots of things,” she said. “About you and all your brothers, and your sister. That you're witch-cursed, and you turn into swans at night. Sounds like a load of old nonsense to me.”

Jack hesitated, wondering if it was better to take what seemed to be a chance to hide for a while longer or to come clean; then he saw a glint in her eyes and realized he had already given himself away. Mrs. Kellnick was shrewder than she looked.

“It's...partway true, ma'am,” he said. “We were witch-cursed once to be swans during the day. But we're not anymore. Our sister broke the spell.”

He waited.

Mrs. Kellnick looked at him for a long moment. “Huh,” she said at last. “Swans.” She cocked her head. “What was it like?”

Jack struggled for a moment to find some way of describing being cursed for seven years, living every day trapped in an alien body, spending every night watching your sister suffer to cure you, all the while struggling to survive far away from any human aid.

“Bit wet,” he said.

Mrs. Kellnick laughed and flapped a dishtowel at him. “Get on with you. No, wait a moment.” She went back into the farmhouse, leaving Jack standing confused outside. After a moment he finally finished wrapping his scarf.

She came back out a few minutes later, carrying a large basket. “That's for you to take home,” she said, handing it to Jack, who was so astonished he almost dropped it. “Don't you dare try to refuse. I've seen how skinny you are your brothers are, and what the other five look like I can't begin to guess. I'm not much of one for charity but it sounds to me like you lot have had a hard enough time already.”

Jack gripped the basket with both hands and stammered. Mrs. Kellnick waved him away. “Go on now, really. And bring your brothers back next time. I don't know what they think they're hiding from, but they're amazing workers and I don't intend to lose them now.”

With that she turned and went back into the farmhouse, leaving Jack to walk home in a state of some shock. The basket had enough food for all of them to go to bed that night with fuller stomachs than they'd had for months, and there was still a little jar of honey and a packet of tea for Lucas to tuck away in the cabinet with the preserves.

Not everyone was as kind. Conall was peppered with questions all day, which he evaded politely when he could and answered as shortly as possible when he couldn't. The store manager said nothing outright, but he became somewhat more curt than he had been and tended to give Conall odd looks. Others were more abrupt: the pastor received a number of complaints, both by letter and in person, that a witch-boy was working in the church.

John did not dare mention the subject, did not even start any theological debates as he worked, but he found out Father Hale's feelings on the matter rather abruptly. “I need you to take a letter for me, lad,” he said as John made the morning tea. “Hands are a mess this morning and I keep blotching the paper.”

John thought the pastor's hands looked quite steady, but he only said, “Yes, of course,” and went to get paper and a pen.

“Ahem,” Father Hale began, and paused to take a sip of tea. “Dear Editor. I have received many complaints lately from citizens who seem to be concerned that a supposed 'witch-boy' is working at the church. Put 'witch-boy' in quotation marks,” he added helpfully.

John's stomach went cold and his hand clenched around the pen, but he kept writing. “I would like to address all these complaints at once in a public manner,” the pastor went on. “The boy in question has been working for me for almost four months now. He is an excellent assistant who keeps the church sparkling clean and helps me with many things I cannot do so well anymore, and he makes a wonderful cup of tea.” The pastor paused to take a sip of his tea, as if to underline this point. “He is a pious and hard-working young man and I see absolutely no reason for these hateful rumors to be spread about him. Furthermore, I might add that I have been a priest for nigh on half a century and should certainly be able to recognize witchery when I see it, let alone be ignorant to it working beside me for four months. This vindictive gossip should cease immediately before it becomes dangerous. There is no cause for anyone to be upset. Sincerely yours, etc.” He nodded in satisfaction. “We'll send that on to the newspaper straight away and hopefully it will clear things up a little.”

John's hand was shaking on the pen. “Father-” he said.

“Drink your tea,” Father Hale said. “Oh, and then I need you to run down to the store and pick up a few things. Best go before it rains.”

The vindictive gossip did not quite cease immediately, but it did ease up a little. It was certainly helped by the decidedly non-witchiness of the brothers, who showed no signs of sprouting feathers no matter the time of day. But one question remained, circulating among the mutters.

None of them had mentioned Bran, not once, not even when questioned all but directly. The most they would allow was that they had a brother who stayed at home with their sister, being shy and too young to work: nothing else. Oh, but the newspapers had mentioned Bran quite a bit; after all he was one of the most interesting parts of the whole story. Conall had sternly refused to let anyone come near him with a camera, but enough people had seen him, during the execution and afterward. Some of the papers had printed sketches and artist's depictions, some more accurate than others, and imaginations had run wild. The story was heavily distorted now, but the notion that there was one brother who was not quite right lingered in the public consciousness.

It was, perhaps, only a matter of time.

Christopher was doing the washing-up, and Elise was napping by the fire, when Bran went outside alone. Not far: he never wandered far from the house when the gossip was still circulating. Just far enough to get a bit of the fresh cold air and see the trees. Looking up at the clear cold-blue sky, he did not see the children sneaking close until it was too late.

Things might have gone differently if he had not been wearing the cloak Lucas had made him. It was plain and a bit shapeless, but it covered him well and was warmer than any coat he could have worn, and had a simple clasp that could be done and undone with one hand. With his wing tucked tight against him in the cold and covered in the cloak, Bran looked a bit odd, but not in any immediately definable sense.

The children stared. Bran stared back.

It had been four months since he had seen anyone but his siblings. Over those four months he had imagined and feared the moment when he was found out many times-in his head it usually involved pitchforks and torches and yelling-but now that he was finally confronted with it he had no idea what to do.

The children-there were two boys and one girl, all equally covered in mud-were likewise perplexed at not getting what they had imagined. They had come to see a monstrous deformed witch-creature, not a plain young man who seemed to be a bit asymmetrical, and not really all that much older than them.

“What do you want?” he asked simply after they had stared at each other for a while. It was all he could think to say.

The oldest, or at least, the largest boy drew himself up. “We-we came to see the witch-boy,” he said, doing his best to be staunch and bold.

Bran blinked at them.

“They say he's really monstrous,” the other boy piped up with the open lack of both tact and self-preservation of the young and scrappy. “He's got feathers all over and claws for feet.”

“And a beak for a nose,” the girl added.

“Yeah, and yellow eyes,” the leader added, not to be outdone. “And he doesn't talk, he just caws like a bird.” He bounced on his heels uncertainly. “So...have...have you seen him?”

Bran, who had been trying to figure out why they were describing to his face things about him that were clearly not true, had in that moment the lightning-strike of realization that they did not know it was him. They thought he was, perhaps, another searcher, here on a mission akin to theirs, to catch a glimpse of the witch-boy.

He had said to Marhaus, what seemed now a long time ago, “People know what I am now, when they look at me.” After months alone in the cottage, fearing the mob, worrying over the burden he placed on his brothers, he had forgotten why that had once seemed important to him. But now, for the first time since the execution day, someone had looked at him and not known. It was somehow both exhilarating and disquieting.

Is this what it would be like? he thought with a strange, detached feeling of sudden clarity. To cut it off? To be able to go out among people and not seem so terribly, immediately strange? And to hear them speak in such a way about me without knowing who they were speaking to?

The children were watching him. He felt, though he did not know it, much as Jack had: caught between a chance to escape and a chance to explain. The world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for him to make a decision that would send him hurtling down one path or another.

He thought he saw his life pass before his eyes-no, two lives, running side by side, two futures that he might have unfolding before him.

“Yes,” he said.

Their eyes widened. “You have?” the leader squeaked. “What did he look like?”

“He doesn't have claws for feet,” Bran said slowly. “Or a beak for a nose or yellow eyes, and he can talk just like anyone else. And he doesn't have feathers all over. He looks...a lot like you or me.”

The children glanced at each other scornfully. The leader made a noise of disbelief. “Are you sure you saw him?”

“You probably saw someone else,” the girl postulated. “The real witch-boy doesn't look like that. He's all scary and ugly. How do you know you saw him anyway, if he just looked all normal and boring?”

“He isn't completely boring,” Bran said, and paused for a moment: that was a description of himself he had never really considered. “He...has a wing in place of one arm.”

The children brightened. This was more like what they had come for. “A wing?” the smaller boy said. “Like a bird's wing? What did it look like? Was it big and scary?”

“It looks like a bird's wing, and it's big, but not really scary,” Bran said. “It's white, like a swan. He kind of walks a little funny, because it's heavy and awkward. But he isn't monstrous at all.” Or so I hope, he added to himself.

They did not seem entirely convinced. “I don't know,” the older boy said. “Are you sure he didn't have yellow eyes? Or claws? I mean, did you see?”

“How do we know you saw him at all?” the girl demanded, sticking her chin out mulishly. “Maybe you're making it all up. Everyone knows he's all weird and ugly, everyone says-”

Well, here it was, right down to the wire: the choice. It felt a bit unfair, to be confronted with it so suddenly with no time for preparation or deliberation. But then, such was life.

Bran took a deep breath and undid the clasp of his cloak.

If he had not been so terrified, he might have been amused at how their jaws dropped and their eyes went wider than one might have thought possible. He stretched out his wing, gently, shivering a little at the bite of the wind.

“You're-” the older boy whispered. He stood on his toes, trying to see if Bran had yellow eyes after all, but was disappointed to find them brown. “Why didn't you say you were him?” he said accusingly.

“I thought I did,” Bran said, with a half smile.

The girl reached out tentatively and brushed the feathers with her fingertips. “You're like an angel,” she said softly.

Bran shuddered and shook his head. “I'm just a person,” he said.

They did not hear Elise open the door or pad out into the yard, did not see her until she was right next to them, looking at Bran with wide what have you done eyes. Bran folded his wing back down and moved to put his hand on her shoulder.

“It's alright,” he said. “They were just...curious.”

Elise looked at him, then at the children, fingers tracing the scar tissue over her hands. Bran was not sure what to say. The two of them could hold entire conversations without saying a word, but explaining why he had done what he had done seemed beyond his ability.

“I...had to show someone eventually,” he said finally. “It was this or hide for the rest of my life.”

She shifted her feet, bare and cold in the grass, and said nothing, but he thought she understood after all.

The children were looking at Elise's hands with almost as much curiosity as they had looked at Bran's wing. “How did it happen?” the older boy asked.

Bran hesitated, not sure where to begin, but then Elise in her pale whispery voice said, “Would you like to hear the story?”

All three children nodded fervently.

“Well,” Elise said, “you may as well come inside where it's warm.”

Christopher nearly shattered the plate he was holding when they came into the house with three nervous children in tow. “What are you doing?” he hissed, flicking soap suds all over the kitchen.

“We're explaining,” Bran said.

“We're going to make them tea,” Elise said. “And tell them the story.”

Christopher stared at them in shock. His eyes flicked from them to the children, standing huddled close together and looking unsure that they had made the right choice.

“Well,” he said, after a long moment. “I suppose it's your story to tell, if it's anyone's.” He returned to washing with a shake of his head, though he kept throwing glances over his shoulder.

Bran led the children into the main room and put the kettle on over the fire. The children kept looking around as if expecting to find evidence of witchcraft, but there was only the chair before the fire and a few bare possessions: Nathaniel's sewing basket, the carefully stacked pile of newspapers, a couple of old guttering oil lamps.

When the children were sitting nestled in blankets and each sipping politely from a mug, Bran began.

“We were cursed by a witch, it's true,” he said. “She once lived very close to us.” The children gaped and glanced around in renewed concern.

“She wasn't a very nice woman, I'm afraid, though neither did she harm anyone. She only wanted to live on her land alone and be left alone. But our father wanted to buy this land and develop it...”

He told the whole story, beginning to end. Occasionally Elise would correct him on something, or offer a quiet comment, but mostly she just listened and nodded along. Christopher came in before too long and added a few contributions of his own. It was always Bran who picked up the thread again, though.

When he was done the children looked properly impressed. “But that's so sad!” the girl exclaimed. “And now you're all alone?”

“Of course not,” Bran said, drawing his brother and sister close. “We have each other.”

“Things are a bit hard, but we get on,” Christopher said.

“Things are better than they were,” Elise whispered.

They sent the children off home not long after- “Your parents are probably worried,” Christopher said, a little uncertainly, though the three only rolled their eyes. The girl paused at the door, shuffling her feet back and forth.

“I-I'm sorry I called you weird and ugly,” she said all in a rush, and ducked her head.

The boys stopped as well and glanced at each other, looking a little abashed. “I'm...sorry I called you a monster,” the smaller one said after a moment.

“Yeah,” the older one said. “You're not a monster at all.” Then, before Bran could think of anything to say, they all ran off.

“Well,” he said to no one in particular as he turned back into the house, “what do you think of that?”

“I think it'll lead to trouble,” Christopher said, but he left it alone at that.

Bran spent the rest of the day sitting in front of the fire, running his fingers over his feathers and thinking.

It did lead to some trouble, although mostly for the children, who got royally reamed out when it came out that they had been trespassing and bothering the neighbors and going into strange houses and who knew what else. There was considerable alarm from some quarters as to what nefarious witchy reasons the family might have for inviting in helpless children (“You're lucky you didn't wind up in the oven, like Hansel and Gretal,” the girl's older brother told her gleefully, but she only scoffed at him and said that they didn't even have an oven) but this was tempered somewhat by the fact that nothing untoward appeared to have happened to them in the least.

That Sunday, after considerable and lengthy discussion, all eight of them went to church. “People are only going to wonder and make things up until they see me for themselves,” Bran pointed out. “I might as well get it over with.” Their entrance was met with considerable hubbub, but Father Hale only smiled and carried on.

Bran spent the entirety of the service looking up at the lone stained glass window at the back of the church, depicting an angel descending, caught between earth and sky. The congregation stared at him in awe and murmured to see what seemed to be an angel walking among them, but he could only see this as another mockery, another thing he was not, only a half-formed mimicry of.

After the service, while his siblings mingled uncomfortably, Bran walked over to the high stained glass window and looked up at the angel. He wanted to find disapproval, disappointment, condescension maybe, something he expected, something he could rail against. But the angel's face was kind and calm and seemed to know something he did not.

He felt a hand upon his shoulder and turned to see Father Hale standing behind him.

“It's been a long time since I had such a hard job keeping a captive audience,” he said to Bran. “You distract people, my lad.”

“I don't mean to,” Bran muttered.

“No, I daresay you don't.” Father Hale looked up at the window. “What do you think of Gabriel, then?”

“He looks...more beautiful than I will ever be.” Bran shook his head and looked away. “I know what people think, but this is no gift from God. I know that much.”

“Ah, everything is a gift from God,” Father Hale said, but in a distracted sort of way as though it were more habitual than anything. “But you were not, in fact, sent to inspire my flock, I don't think. What you are meant for, I cannot say.”

“A punishment,” Bran said. “A curse upon my father-”

“No.” Father Hale's grip tightened on Bran's shoulder, though not enough to hurt. “You are a young man, you are your own person, as are your sisters and brothers, and a great cruelty has been inflicted upon you. It is no kind of justice to punish the innocent for another's crime. I want you to remember that, and never in all your life think that this was deserved. But,” he added, looking into Bran's eyes, “I beg you not to pay this forward. Do not continue this cycle, do not spread the cruelty further.”

“I have no intention to,” Bran said, and he did not, truly, would not even if the witch were not long dead and gone. “But I do not know what I should do.”

“I don't know that I can offer any good occupational advice,” the pastor said with a wry twist of his mouth. “But I think that if you do nothing else for the rest of your life but bear this burden with as much courage and grace as you can muster, that will have been a life well lived.”

Bran thought of those words often afterward; when people stared or muttered, when his joints ached through the night, when he mouthed over that dread word amputation and considered if it was the right thing after all. Sometimes it was hard not to let the anger eat up his days, and at those times he thought he understood, truly, what Father Hale had meant about using his life well. Some days it felt like he had to pour everything in him into not hating. Some days it felt like it would take him the rest of his life to not be angry.

There was still noise and distrust, but there was also an elderly woman who came by the church one afternoon to drop off eight hand-knitted scarves with an astonished John. There was a package from Lord Marhaus's housekeeper with tea, ginger snaps, blister balm, notes from half the serving staff and a stern chastisement for not writing to let them know how the siblings were getting on. There was a box left for Conall at the store after he mentioned to the town bookseller how much Bran enjoyed the novels; they opened it around the table and found ten more battered books with an apologetic note that it was all the bookseller could spare for the moment. Bran devoured them all eagerly.

“I think,” he said to Elise when he had finished the last one, “I'm going to write.”

“Oh?” she said.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Because...because I'm not ashamed of who I am, but I want people to be able to see, well, all of me, if you follow. If they just look at me, they see who I am, but they don't see all of it. If I can talk first, before they've already made up their minds--then I can really tell them things.”

Elise laid a hand against his wing. “I follow,” she said.

Conall brought home pencil stubs and paper leftover from packaging, and Bran covered every inch in words. He read it out loud by the fire at night, after Jack had finished with the newspapers. It was clumsy at first, stumbling words and awkward sentences, but he had a supportive audience.

Much to Bran's surprise, Elise one day picked up a pencil and, using both hands to steady the implement, drew a bird on the corner of his paper.

“I wanted to make something,” she said, almost apologetically. “Something that didn't hurt.”

They did not expect much more for Christmas Day than to break open the preserves and honey and put some extra wood on the fire, so when Mrs. Kellnick told Jack in no uncertain terms that they were all coming around for dinner he nearly swallowed his tongue.

“Oh, ma'am,” he said weakly. “That's eight extra mouths to feed-”

“Don't you start with me,” she said. “We could use the company. It'll just be me and Bill and here, what with...what with...”

Jack remembered all too suddenly that Mr. and Mrs. Kellnick had lost both of their sons to the war. On sudden impulse he gave the astonished woman a hug.

“Of course we'll come, ma'am,” he said.

For a moment she held onto him, and he thought he heard a faint, distant sob-but when she let go her eyes were dry.

“Good,” she said. “And don't you worry- there'll be no turkey, nor goose.”

Jack laughed, though in truth he had been a bit concerned.

There was, indeed, no poultry of any kind served, but when they entered the farmhouse on Christmas Day they found a table laden with just about everything else they could have imagined. Mrs. Kellnick fussed over Conall (“Oh goodness you're a handsome young man-you look so like my Brian...”), John (“Oh my poor dear, you do need glasses, don't you? Oh, I can tell, you squint at things just like my brother did-”) and Christopher (“Good gracious, you're pale, don't you get any sun? And so skinny, the lot of you...”).

Then she saw Elise, and promptly burst into tears.

Things got a bit confusing at that point. Elise, unsure of what else to do, stood and let Mrs. Kellnick hug her and sob incoherently. All anyone could make out were muffled variations on “my poor child”.

At long last she let go, wiping her eyes, and turned toward the door where Bran was hovering awkwardly. “You must be Bran, then,” she said, looking him over critically.

“Yes ma'am,” he said.

She gently brushed aside his cloak and looked at his wing. “Well, if that isn't something,” she said softly. Then she embraced him, hesitantly, as if afraid he might break.

There was quiet for a moment, and then Mrs. Kellnick straightened up. “Well, come on, then,” she said. “No sense standing about here waiting for the food to get cold.”

Later--after, for the first time in months, all eight could honestly say they had eaten as much as they could; after they had retired to the sitting room for tea and brandy, where Bran discovered with some consternation that the fat old gray house cat thought his wing made for an excellent bed; after John had been coaxed to read from the Bible and Bran had with considerably more coaxing acquiesced to read a few of his poems; after they had all been hugged several times over and Mr. Kellnick had clapped them all on the shoulders and muttered gruffly about enjoying having them there; after they walked down the path to their house in the twilight with their coats flapping like wings--later, when Bran and Elise were standing out in the garden looking up at the stars, Elise said, “I think I'd like to learn to paint.”

Bran looked at her. “It'll be hard,” Elise said, looking down at her hands. “But...I want to be able to speak. To really say what I mean. I was silent so long and I...I don't mind not speaking, but I can't stand to be silent any more. Does that make any sense?”

Bran reached out his wing and she laid her hand against it, rough scar tissue brushing against soft feathers. “Yes,” he said. “We'll shout at the world together, you and I.”

Somewhere, on a patch of land that had once been witch-cursed and was now a well-preserved public park, swans settled peacefully on the water.

Somewhere else, eight once-cursed siblings did not quite live happily ever after; but they did live, and there was happiness, after, and for them, that was enough.

[bamby0304]

The Hart: Chapter One

Summary:  When Lizzie was just a few months old, she lost her father. Fifteen years later she lost her mother, and then her sister. Now in her early twenties Lizzie spends her days and nights hunting things and saving people. When the Winchesters meet the bright eyed and bubbly blonde they don’t realise what they’re in for… and neither does she…

Part Twenty-Five: One Hell of a PA

Masterlist

Warning: Not really :):)

Bamby

EPOV

I walked with Sam and Dean, our voices low so no one would hear us.

"E.V.P," Sam noted.

"From the night of Brad's stage dive," Dean told him. "All of a sudden, I'm getting electromagnetic reading up the wazoo. For some reason, it's a legit haunting now."

"Who's the ghost? What's it want?" Sam asked.

I grinned. "That's where I come in."

Now out of the studio, I lead the guys to one of the trailers. One inside, I moved to the coffee table and grabbed a DVD before putting it into the player and moved to sit on the couch. While Sam and Dean stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around

"Whose trailer is this?"

I shrugged at Dean. "Tony, the guy who plays Mitch. We were hanging out yesterday. Told me I could come here whenever I wanted a little break."

Dean rolled his eyes, coming to sit next to me. "Bet he did."

Sam came to sit on my other side. "Where'd you get the DVD?"

"They're called dailies. Dave got them for me," I explained. "Tony won't be back for a while, but let's hurry this up, shall we?" Pressing the fast forward button on the remote, I watched the TV and paused once the guy fell through the roof. "Here we go." Rewinding it a little, I pressed play.

We watched the screen carefully, keeping an eye out for anything unusual. Nothing seemed different at first, until both Sam and I sat forward, noticing something.

I re-wound a little, pausing on the figure that shouldn't have been there. "I don't know about you two, but I have never seen that woman on set."

She was pale, almost like she was in black and white. Dressed in a long robe with her dark hair up and out of her face.

"I've seen her before."

I looked to Sam, surprised and confused. "Really? Around set?"

"No." He shook his head and stood up, leaving the trailer suddenly.

Dean shrugged. "I gotta get back to work. Call me when he finds something." He gestured to his headset as he stood up and left as well.

SPOV

I wasn't too sure where Lizzie was, so it was just Dean and I going through everything I'd found. Actually, it was more just me going through it while Dean ate food in front of me.

"Here, check this out." I handed him an article.

Instead of taking the paper, he turned on his radio as he spoke into is. "Yeah, go for Ozzy." He grinned.

"You have eyes on Tara?"

"No, I don't have a 20 on Tara. I think she's 10-100."

"Copy that. Send her my way."

"Okay, copy that." He nodded, putting the radio down and turning to me again. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

Shaking my head, I offered him the paper again. "Elise Drummond. Starlet back in the '30s. Had an affair with the studio exec. He uses her up, fires her, leaves her destitute. So, Elise hangs herself from Stage 9's rafters right into a scene they're shooting."

"Just like out man. So what, she's got it i for the studio brass?"

"Possibly." I shrugged. "I mean, it's a motive, and the guy's death matches hers exactly."

He sighed. "We're digging tonight, aren't we?"

EPOV

"Which way?" Sam asked Dean, who was hold the map of the celebrity graveyard.

"Uh, over here." Dean gestured for us to follow. "This map is totally worth the five bucks." he chuckled as he looked to a few of the graves. "Hey, we gotta go check out Johnny Ramone's grave when we're done here."

Sam scoffed. "You wanna dig him up, too?"

Dean turned to him, offended. "Bit your tongue, heathen."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Okay, boys. Can we just get this done?" Snatching the map from Dean, I searched for the grave we were looking for before taking lead, finding it in a matter of moments. "Found her."

"I don't get it." Sam started as he began to dig. "Why now? I mean, after seventy-five years, Elise Drummond suddenly goes homicidal. Why this movie?"

"Well, maybe she's mad they're making a scary ghost flick." Dean suggested as he began to dig with his brother.

Sam paused. "Come on, is it really that scary?"

"Nope." I answered in a heartbeat. "It sucks. And so does digging up graves. But here we are." I sighed as I started to dig as well, wanting to get this over and done with as soon as possible.

DPOV

There was blood and bits and pieces of a dead guy all over a screen and the floor in the studio. Apparently one of the producers had stayed late last night and somehow ended up getting caught in one of the industrial fans.

Sam, Liz and I knew the truth though. Even after salting and burning the bones last night, the same or another ghost had killed again.

"Run-in with a giant fan. Same thing happened to an electrician back in '66. Guy named Billy Beard." Sam explained.

"What the hell, dude?" I turned away from the scene.

Liz sighed. "Is it just me or does this feel like a completely different murder. Elise wouldn't have done this. It's not her m.o."

"So, we're dealing with another ghost?" I shook my head. "These things don't usually tag team."

"Everybody, gather around, okay?" McG called. "Got an announcement to make. Everyone, huddle in." He waited as we all gathered. "In light of Jay's accident last night, and in cooperation with the authorities, we're shutting down production for a few days."

The crowd began to murmur and sigh in disappointment.

McG nodded. "I know, I know. Look, I'm not gonna lie to you, we've had a few setbacks this week. But we all know what Jay and Brad wanted more than anything... and that was to see Hell Hazers II: The Reckoning on screens all across America." He smiled as everyone nodded. "Now, we owe it to them to go on and to pull together and make this damn movie, huh?"

Everyone clapped and cheered.

As they got a bit louder, McG spoke over everyone. "But not... not today. Go home. Someone will call you."

Everyone began to walk off, moving to leave. Sam, Liz and I stayed where we were, watching as everyone else began to leave.

"Uh, Elizabeth." We turned to see one of the actors heading our way. It was the guy that played Mitch.

Liz smiled at him. "Hey, Tony."

He gave her a charming grin as he stopped in front of her, ignoring both Sam and me. "So, I was wondering. Seeing as we've got some time off, you wanna go out?"

Jealousy flared up inside me. I had no idea where it was coming from or why I was feeling it, but I was. Liz and I had sex here and there, sure, but that didn't mean we were anything other than friends with benefits. That's all either of us wanted. So why did I want to beat this guy into the ground?

"Oh, I'm so sorry..." She looked up at him with apologetic eyes. "I'd love to, I really would. But I'm actually busy. With my friends." She gestured to Sam and me.

The guy looked to each of us, stopping at me. Instinctively, I stood taller, staring him down. It wasn't like I was trying to intimidate the guy and scare him off, I just... I didn't want a douche bag like him trying to get with Liz. She could do so much better.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around then?" He shrugged.

"Yeah. Sure." She smiled as he walked off.

Once the guy was gone, Sam spoke up. "You know, you could have gone."

"Are you kidding me?" She laughed, turning to us. "He leaves and we don't have to worry about him finding us working in his trailer." She grinned. "The guys cute and all, but I'm not interested."

"You're not?" Sam sounded as surprised as I felt.

"He's a movie star. I'm just another chick he wants to get with. Not exactly a turn on." She shrugged, walking off.

EPOV

I sat on the couch next to Dean, leaning against him absentmindedly, my thigh resting against his. We were watching scenes from the movie, looking for any more signs of a haunting. He lifted his arm, stretching before placing it behind my shoulders.

Smiling, I turned to look up at him. "Smooth, Winchester."

He grinned. "I just thought... we're alone." He shrugged as he slowly began to lean forward, his eyes looking down at my lips.

When Tony had asked me if I wanted to go out with him, to tell you the truth I wanted to say yes. Why? Well, because I knew what Dean and I were doing was changing. Neither of us had slept with anyone else since the case with Madison. We flirted with others, sure, but nothing came from it.

I liked Dean, that wasn't news to me. I'd liked him from the get go. But that did not mean we were going to suddenly become anything other than what we were. If we were going to change, then the only direction we were going would be backwards. We were either casual or nothing. Just being friends would be good enough for me.

Which is exactly why I pulled away before he could kiss me.

"I think you should... I think you should hook up with someone," I mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"What?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "Tara likes you. She's asked me about you. Thought we were dating. Maybe you could talk to her some more, see where things lead?"

"Okay..." he sounded a little unsure and confused. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No." Looking up at him then, I gave him a reassuring smile. "Just been thinking about the rules. We're not an item, Dean. There's no reason why you shouldn't be hooking up with anyone."

"Then why'd you say no to Tony?"

"The case," I lied. "I wanna focus on the case."

He opened his mouth to speak probably to call my bullshit. But before he could utter a word, the door to the trailer opened as Sam walked in.

"Hey." He nodded to me and his brother.

"Hey." Dean nodded back, leaning into the couch again. "So you find out where the electrician's buried?"

"He wasn't," Sam sighed, taking a seat on my other side. "Billy Beard was cremated."

"Great." Dean shook his head, frustrated. "Now what?"

"No idea." Sam shrugged. "Any more ghosts show up in the clips?" he asked, gesturing to the TV.

"Not in the first six hours," I noted, sitting up to stretch.

"You know, maybe the spirits are trying to shut down the movie because they think it sucks," Sam suggested. "Because, I mean, it kinda does."

I gave a little laugh and went to respond, but Tara had begun to speak in the scene then, her words catching my attention. "Guys... you hear that?"

Sam looked to the screen, listening to Tara as she read an incantation. "That's the real deal. A necromantic summoning ritual. What the hell is that doing in a Hollywood movie?"

SPOV

Dean and I knocked on Martin- the writer's- door.

He turned to us, confused. "Guys, we're all shut down. What are you still doing here?"

"Yeah, um, just..." We stepped into his office as I spoke. "Sorry, man. We... we... we couldn't help ourselves. We just had to tell you that we read the script."

Martin smiled as he sat down on the edge of his desk. "And?"

"Yeah. It's, uh... it's awesome."

"Awesome." Dean agreed.

"Really awesome." I added.

Martin's face lit up. "I know, it's pretty rocking, right? I'm glad you guys liked it."

I nodded. "Yeah, I really liked, uh, all the attention to detail."

"Dude, right on, that's my thing. I mean, you know, colour me guilty, but that is me. I mean, I'm a total detail buff."

"No, I can tell. The way you worked in all those Enochian summoning rituals and all the authentic language, and-"

Martin cut me off, confused. "What, you mean that Latin crap? No, man. That's Walter. Walter Dixon, the original writer. You like that garbage?"

"Wait, Walter the PA, Walter?" Dean asked.

"No, he's not a PA. He's got a clause in his contract that allows him to come on set," Mart explained.

Dean shrugged. "But he wrote the invocations?"

"He wrote a whack-job screenplay. There's no pace, no love interest, it's all wack-a-doo exposition. I had to cut like, ninety percent of it to make it readable. Another ten percent to make it good."

DPOV

"They should've kept Walter's script. It's actually pretty decent," Liz noted as she read the script on the couch.

"Yeah," Sam sighed, dropping the script he'd been reading onto the coffee table. "And it reads like a how-to manual of conjuration. Like a textbook on how to summon ghosts and get them to do whatever you want."

"Like kill people," I noted.

"Yep." Sam shook his head. "So, let's say somewhere down the line Walter learned some pretty Black Magic."

I nodded, dropping my own script. "Yeah, and let's say he's pissed at these people for wrecking his movie."

"That sounds like motive and means to me, boys." Liz placed her script on to her lap. "So, where's Walter, and who's next?"

As the three of us entered the studio, we heard what sounded like Martin scream. Without looking at each other, we all ran in the direction where the sound had come from, knowing that we didn't have time to come up with a plan. We just had to act. Luckily, I'd grabbed one of the guns from the car, just in case something like this was going to go down.

We came around the corner to see Martin being dragged along the ground by a guy whose face was shredded up on one side. It was the dead janitor, and he was pulling Martin right towards a highspeed fan.

"Walter, please!" Martin yelled. "Walter, help me!" he screamed.

I lifted my gun as I came to a stop, and shot the ghost, sending it away. Sam hurried over to turn the fan off as Liz and I helped Martin to his feet.

"You are one hell of a PA," he told me.

I shrugged. "Yeah, I know."

Walter began to back up. "What are you doing?"

"Could ask you the same thing, alter." Sam started for Walter who was hurrying up some stairs he'd been standing by. "Raising these spirits from the dead, making them murder for you, that's playing with fire, Walter."

Walter paused and turned to him. "You don't understand."

"You're right. We don't. But I also don't care," Liz called to him. "Whatever it is, doesn't justify murder."

"You put your heart and soul into something. Years of hard work. Years. And then they take it and they crap all over it!" He gestured to Martin.

I looked to Martin, who just shook his head, clearly in denial. The movie was pretty crap.

Walter went on. "And then... and then they want you to smile and say thank you."

"Listen, it's just a movie. That's it." Sam tried reasoning with him.

Walter sighed. "Look, I got nothing against you, man. You're not part of this. Just please, please, just leave. But Martin's gotta stay."

"Sorry, can't do that," I called to him. "I mean, it's not that we like him or anything, it's just a matter of principle."

"Then I'm sorry too." Martin raised something that looked like a dreamcatcher from where I stood.

"Walter... Walter, don't," Sam warned.

But Walter didn't listen. No, instead he began to chant, in Latin. When he finished, the place began to shake. This isn't going to be good...

Screams and whispers surrounded us before three ghosts appeared to my right.

"Sam! Liz!" I yelled, raising my gun to the spirits as they began to walk towards Martin and myself. "Son of a… come on, come on."

Then they were gone. They just disappeared.

Liz came to stand next to me, looking around for the ghosts. "Shit."

"That's not a good thing?" Martin asked her.

She shook her head. "No, it's really not."

Suddenly Sam was pushed away as something grunted close by.

"Get Martin!" I told Liz as I hurried to my brother and helped him back up. "Come on, come on, move!"

We ran though the set, making our way to the fake cabin, knowing the ghosts were right behind us. Once we were in, Sam closed the door behind us, pressing his back to is. I started to refill my gun, knowing i wouldn't have time later.

"'Come to the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs'," I muttered, annoyed.

"You really think now's an appropriate time to quote Die Hard?" Liz asked me, slightly out of breath.

I gave myself a moment to look up at her, amazed. How did show know where the quote was from? It was just another thing that made her cooler.

As I looked away, I found myself looking right through the space where a wall should have been if we were in a real cabin. But we weren't... which meant the ghosts could walk right in. They may already have.

"Oh, man," I groaned, turning to aim my gun at the open space.

Martin shook his head, hiding behind Liz. "I can't believe these ghosts are real."

"What makes you say that?" I asked sarcastically.

"But I don't understand... how is Walter controlling them?" Martin had a good point there.

"Probably that talisman," Sam suggested before pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Martin looked at him like he was an idiot. "What are you doing?"

"I mean, if film cameras pick these suckers up, then... maybe, uh..." Sam lifted his phone, scanning the room. "Dean, right there!" He gestured in front of me.

I turned and took a shot without blinking.

"Got him." He nodded as he kept looking. "Hey, right there!"

Again, I shot where he was pointing.

Liz looked up where she could see Walter running on the next level. "I'm gonna go after him."

"Liz-"

She cut me off. "I'll be fine." With that, she was gone.

"Here, you get the idea?" Sam handed Martin the phone as Martin nodded. "Good, I'm gonna help Lizzie. Hold the ghosts off," he told us before running out of the set.

EPOV

Sam had caught up to me. The two of us ran faster than Walter, so it was easy to cut him off. As he ran out the door of the studio, he came to a sudden stop, seeing us block his path.

Sam shook his head at him. "It's over, Walter. Now, give it to us."

Instead, Walter threw the talisman to the ground. I lifted my hand, trying to will it to me, but it was too late. The talisman hit the ground hard, breaking into pieces.

"There, okay, now no one can have it." Walter had no idea what he just did...

Sam tensed. "I wouldn't have done that if I were you."

"Oh, yeah?"

I nodded at Walter. "Yeah."

"And why not?"

"You made the spirits kill for you, you idiot," I answered. Maybe I was too harsh, maybe I wasn't. But at that moment, I didn't care. "And you just let them go."

Sam shook his head. "We can't stop them now," he noted as Dean and Martin rushed through the door Walter had come from. "You brought them back, forced them to murder... they're not gonna be very happy with you."

Walter started backing up from us, still not getting it. "Yeah, so why not?"

There was a loud screeching, a yell, and then Walter screamed as he was pushed to the ground. His cried and screamed, his body shaking as the invisible ghosts attacked him, blood pooling on the ground where he lay.

I leaned against the studio building as Tony stood in front of me, his lips pressed against mine in a heated kiss. One hand placed on the wall by my head, the other resting on my hip as my own hands held his jacket.

He pulled back, smiling down at me. "You really should think about changing careers. You'd make one hell of an actress. Even a model," he noted, looking me up and down.

"Thanks, but I'm happy with the job I've got." Leaning forward, I pressed a kiss to his lips again.

He got the message, coming back down to deepen the kiss once more.

It's not that I did or didn't like the guy. Like I said before, I wanted to say yes to him when he asked me out. I hadn't because of Dean.

But after talking to Dean, and thinking about everything, I knew I was right. I needed to get back out there. I needed to get back to normal. Being with one guy was not my thing. In saying that though, I wasn't going to stop being with Dean, we were just going to have to slow down for a while.

The sound of someone clearing their throat had Tony and I pull away to look over, seeing Sam standing a few feet away, waiting patiently.

"I, uh... I gotta go," I told Tony, pushing off the wall as I stepped away from him.

He watched as I started to back up. "Will I see you around?"

"You never know." I grinned at him before turning around and walking over to Sam. "Ready?"

He looked form me to Tony, trying not to laugh. "Are you?"

I gave a short shrug. "What, can't a girl have some fun?"

A light laugh escaped his lips then as he turned to walk along the path with me right beside him. We didn't talk, but I did notice that the tension between us had eased a little. We both knew we weren't done talking about what was happening, but for now, Sam was willing to give it a rest.

Nearing Tara's trailer, we couldn't ignore it's shaking. As we were about to walk past it stopped and a moment later the door opened.

Dean stepped out, a wide grin on his face as he adjusted the collar of his jacket. He looked up at the door where Tara stood in nothing but a robe.

"You're one hell of a PA." She smiled at him.

"Thank you."

I chuckled lightly, feeling slightly surprised that I wasn't jealous. "Se

Bamby

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